


The Ringmaster

by Sinesthero



Series: Horses, Hot Nights, and Hard Times [1]
Category: Borderlands, Borderlands (Video Games), Tales from the Borderlands - Fandom
Genre: 1930s, Alcohol, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Autofellatio, Biting, Contortion, Daddy Kink, M/M, Oral Sex, Period-Typical Homophobia, Prostitution, Riding Crop, Sexual Coercion, Slapping, Smoking, circus AU, erotic whipping, more tags to be added later, period-typical ethnic slurs, rhack - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-16
Updated: 2018-02-19
Packaged: 2018-05-20 23:22:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 21
Words: 91,558
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6029308
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sinesthero/pseuds/Sinesthero
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A down on his luck contortionist (Rhys) and his magician brother (Vaughn) seek employment with the Bartelli Brothers Circus following the destruction of their previous outfit. The Ringmaster shows an interest in the tall, supple younger man.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Road

**Author's Note:**

> Expect a lot of Anachronism. Also expect a lot of nebulously Southern fictional locales

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Brothers O'Byrne bemoan their fate on a hot, lonely country road.

It was an unmercifully hot July day and the road stretched out endlessly before them. Two men walked along side by side, each pulling a wheeled case behind them. One was tall and spindly with slicked back chestnut hair. His right eye was a warm brown color. The other was a very fine replica of an eye made of glass. It did not match the real one. Instead of being brown it was a brilliant blue.

The other man was a good head shorter than the first, with short, dark brown hair and a pair of round wire rimmed spectacles that sat in front of his sky blue eyes. He had heavy brows and wore his facial hair in a thin moustache and precisely trimmed goatee.

"Sweet Mother of Mercy, brother. It's hotter than hell," The shorter man said as he stopped walking for a moment. He lifted off his bowler hat and tried to wipe the sweat away from his forehead, but it was somewhat moot as his shirt was drenched in sticky wetness.

The man he called his brother, who was in truth no blood relation, nodded wearily. "I can deal with the heat, Vaughn my brother, but if we don't eat soon I'm going to just lay down in the ditch here and die."

"The hell you're going to. We didn't survive all this shit to give up now. The Bartelli Brother's circus is going to be in Old Haven for at least two more days. We're not far off. We can make it." Vaughn grabbed his case by the handle and continued walking.

The tall man was pessimistic based on their experiences over the past few weeks, "What if they won't have us? Don't need us? Can't afford us? What then?"

"I don't know, Rhys... what do you want me to say?" Vaughn sounded irritable, "We give up and get normal jobs? What skills do we have beyond performing? Do you want to be a damn... day laborer? Or lose a hand working in some factory... If we can even find that? Do you want to be stuck in the ass end of the bloody South picking cotton?"

"No," Rhys replied, sullenly.

"Then keep those stilts of yours moving and try not to focus on the hunger. If we're lucky we'll catch a ride," Vaughn muttered.

"We haven't had any luck since Mr. Henderson got tarred and feathered outside of Mobile." Rhys shook his head at the horrific memory. It was the second most gruesome thing he had seen in his life.

Vaughn shuddered in spite of the heat and swiftly made the sign of the cross over his chest, "I don't want to think about that... At least _we_ lived. That's what matters... besides, we all told him to stay away from that girl."

"Idiot." Rhys spat, but it was more about showing disgust then actually spewing saliva. He didn't have the moisture to spare. "We did nothing wrong... but here we are... homeless... jobless... now penniless."

Vaughn puffed himself up to make the pitch he always made when things got difficult, "Hear me out... I could... take back up pick pocketing. Just a little... to get us some cash. You know I can get away with it. I'm sure the good lord wouldn't mind. He'd not want us starving."

Rhys lip curled up in disgust and he shook his head and said adamantly, "No. I made a promise to Mama that I wouldn't let you do that... and the Lord doesn't want you stealing."

Vaughn scoffed angrily. Rhys almost never mentioned anything about God except when he was trying to win an argument. There was a momentary pause before he said mutinously, half under his breath, "And you think Mama and the good Lord like what you get up to in the name of money, Brother?"

Rhys' face pulled down tight into a frightening scowl as he turned to glower at the smaller man. He stopped walking, "Vaughn Patrick Michael O’Byrne, you best be shutting your mouth if you know what's good for you. _My_ business is _my_ business... and I swore on the Blessed Virgin to your mother on her deathbed that I wouldn't tolerate you thieving and that I'd always look out for you. She never said anything about..."

"Fucking old men for money?" Vaughn interrupted, before thinking better of it and maneuvering his suitcase between him and Rhys before he could get his ears boxed.

Rhys was too tired and to muster any more anger. He seemed to collapse in on himself with a sigh.

At that Vaughn apologized with a guilty hunch of his shoulders, "Rhys... I'm sorry... I'm hot, tired and hungry... I'm just being an ass."

Rhys nodded and inhaled, "I know. I Just... I made a promise... and after all Mama did for me, raising me as her own, I won't hear of it. I owe her."

Vaughn took off his hat and scratched his head just for an excuse to look away. This particular argument always ended with this particular guilt trip. Vaughn wasn't sure why he thought it would end any differently this time, "Yes, Rhys. I won't bring it up again." That was probably also a lie.

"Good." Rhys said with a firm nod before he started rolling his case down the road again. "Besides..." He flashed Vaughn a grin, "Mama taught me all about how Christ Jesus ministered to and spent time with the whores. That's tacit approval if I ever saw it."

Vaughn chuckled and started lugging his case along as well. "You're incorrigible."

After another half hour of walking in the blistering sun they finally chanced to hear a motor rumbling behind then. They both stopped and turned to see an old truck, surely from the twenties, carrying some bales of hay as it chugged down the road.

Rhys waved the car down and in a few minutes it had pulled over to the side of the road and parked.

The heavy set man behind the wheel looked them over with more than a little suspicion. Still, he was polite, "Terribly hot one today. Where you boys headed."

Rhys spoke up and said, "Good Afternoon, Sir. We're headed out to Old Haven. Any chance we could hitch a ride since you're headed out in that direction? We would be much obliged."

The red-faced farmer thought about it for what seemed like an inordinately long amount of time, to the point where Rhys and Vaughn shared an uncomfortable glance at each other. Finally, he drawled out a question, "Headin' out to that there Circus, I reckon?"

Rhys figured it was better not to lie, "Yes Sir."

The man deliberated another moment before saying, "Going just short of there. You can ride in the back."

Rhys nodded and said, "Thank you, sir... God Bless."

"Hurry up then," The man said.

Vaughn climbed up into the back without question and Rhys passed him their cases before also coming to sit up on the hay bales.

Rhys seemed immensely cheered as the truck rumbled on and they could relax for a while, "Perhaps our luck is changing for the better."

 


	2. Handsome Jack

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The gentlemen meet the Ringleader of the circus.

The Southern part of the country had its benefits and its drawbacks. Though nomadic throughout their lives, the O' Byrne brothers had spent most of their days up North where there seemed to be more anonymity and less concern about other people's business. The religiosity of the populace down here was off putting to Rhys, but there was something to be said for for the hospitality.

Despite their lack of money, the gas station owner outside of Old Haven allowed them to use the well out back to wash up and the out house to change into fresh clothing. It was important to get to the circus before the evening's show, so they both were in a rush to put on their serviceable suits. Rhys' suit was a dark grey with lighter gray pinstripes and a narrow, golden tie. Vaughn was dressed in a funerary black coat with a blood red waistcoat and matching bow tie.

Utterly parched, they also drank their fill of the water before walking in the direction of the circus. It was not too long of a walk to the field where the Bartelli Brothers Circus was set up.

Rhys could sense Vaughn getting nervous as the approached the chaotic field of tents, automobiles, and wooden wagons. With a gentle, reassuring voice he said, "I know its been a while since we've had to do this... but just... be polite and... let's hope these people aren't fit for the nuthouse."

"I know," Vaughn said, agreeably. "And here's to hoping." He brushed a hand down his waistcoat anxiously to dust away lint that was not there.

The pair walked the long way around to the back of the circus in an attempt to not be mistaken for circus goers.

A tall, blond man with a pompadour hairstyle and a pointed beard stood near a cluster of the sort of painted wagons that generally housed the performers. Brilliant, aqua blue eyes watched their approach with a clear level of suspicion. There was a silver ring in his nose as well as two high up in the cartilage on his right ear. The clothing he wore was rough, a pair of denim overalls over a dark green shirt and dirty boots.

"Vhaddaya vant? ve ain't open yet," He said. His accent sounded like it was from New York by way of Germany, the best Rhys could tell.

"Hello, my good man," Rhys put on his best show business face and attempted to pour on the charm, "I'm looking for the man who runs this outfit... We are performers in search of employment with this fine Circus."

The voice of an unseen woman could be heard, loudly, from the nearest wagon. Her voice was low and harsh, not helped by the language she was speaking. A gorgeous painting of a tiger and a lion, both standing on their hind legs with front claws raised, was painted on the side of it that faced the men.

The blond man spoke back, also in German, and neither Rhys nor Vaughn could understand anything beyond the repeated utterances of, "Ja Mutter."

When finally they were done speaking or arguing, the man looked back at them and said, "I am August... I vill take you to meet the Ringmaster, Handsome Jack."

"Thank you," Rhys and Vaughn said in unison. August did not ask them their names so they did not bother to offer them.

The wagon they were lead to was larger and nicer then any they had seen so far. That was to be expected of the leader of the troupe. It was painted red and the trim and door were all painted in black. 'Handsome Jack, Ringmaster' was painted on the door in golden paint and lettered in a fine script.

August knocked on the door, "Hey... Jack... got some people to see you."

"Tell them to fuck off," came the brusque reply from within.

August looked at the two men and shrugged his shoulders before merely walking off.

Rhys furrowed his brows and looked to Vaughn, "Should we just... go in anyway? We won't get anywhere if we can not even talk to the man."

Vaughn squinted and breathed in deeply before sighing it out, "Sure... If you're prepared for fisticuffs... so am I."

Rhys nodded and then reminded Vaughn, as he often did, "Don't slouch." Nervously, he raised his hand and knocked before opening the door.

Vaughn removed his hat, squared his shoulders, and followed after.

The man sitting behind the desk was old enough to be his father, Rhys concluded, from his well worn face and gray-streaked dark brown hair. He was sturdily built, at least as much of him as could be seen from behind his wooden desk. Rhys noticed immediately that this man also had mismatched eyes, though neither of his appeared to be a fake. One was blue, the other green. He wore no facial hair, save a small triangular patch of hair under his thick lower lip and a respectable pair of sideburns.

All in all, he was a truly handsome man deserving of adding the description 'Handsome' to his name like a title. The only mark against those good looks, though some would argue that it was an enhancement, was a scar that ran from the bridge of his nose to over the top of his left eyebrow. His skin was dark, both due to heritage and time spent out in the sun.

The ringmaster was wearing a traditionally gaudy overcoat of bright red Velvet. The broad lapels were trimmed with gold braid as were the wide cuffs. Fringed, golden Epaulets rested on his shoulders and his collar was absurdly high. He was smoking a hand rolled cigarette and had a tumbler of amber liquid resting on the desk in front of him. He looked at the men and said, brusquely, "What do you want?" before muttering, "Lazy, stupid Kraut."

Rhys spoke for them both, "Mr. Bartelli, I presume..." He beamed his most winning smile and stood up straight with his shoulders back.

"That's not my name, kid. Just the name of the outfit. The dumb asses in these hick towns think the Ginzos are exotic," Jack corrected.

"Oh. I'm sorry Mister..." Rhys waited for him to supply his actual name.

"Jack. Just call me Jack," The man looked annoyed on the verge of enraged. "Look, what the hell do you want, Kid. I'm a busy man and you're wasting my time." Jack picked up the glass and swirled the liquid in it around a moment before taking a drink and setting it down hard on the desk.

Rhys said quickly, thrown off course by the man's agitation, "I'm sorry, Jack. I am Rhys O'Byrne and this is my brother Vaughn O' Byrne and we're performers presently without employment..."

The man took a puff from his cigarette and blew the smoke in their general direction. He looked at the short man, then the taller, "You don't look like brothers. What are you really, couple of Mick queers?"

Vaughn protested, angrily, "I beg your pardon."

Rhys cut him off. "I'm an orphan, Sir... Vaughn's mother raised me... as his brother... so I have always gone by her name."

"There's nothing wrong if you were queers." Jack shrugged, "I got a couple of lesbos working for me. Smoking hot dames... What a waste. No one cares, you just don't let the hog-fucking locals see that shit." He seemed to get himself back on target and off of his tangent, "So what do you do? Why should I hire you as opposed to say... kicking both your asses into the dirt for coming in here uninvited?"

Vaughn kept his hands on his hat in front of him and tried to remain pleasant looking, but Rhys could tell that his sense of calm was eroding swiftly.

Rhys said as stepped forward and spread out his arms, "Well... I am a contortionist, skilled by nature and training in both frontbending and backbending, which as I'm sure a gentleman such as yourself is aware is..."

Jack cut him off with a burst of laughter as he looked the young man up and down. His anger seemed to dissipate at that and all of his attention stayed focused on the tall contortionist. "Take off your coat, Kitten. Let me see what you've got under there." Another drag was taken from his cigarette.

Rhys' cheeks turned pink as he removed the garment.

"The vest too," the Ringmaster added. "Come on, I don't have all day." He snapped his fingers loudly.

Vaughn's lips were tight as he put his hat back on and reached out his hand to take the coat from Rhys. In a moment it was folded neatly over his arm. When the waist coat was also removed he took that as well.

"Okay show me your backbend." Jack said as he got up out of his chair. He was broad shouldered with a narrow waist and hips. Though he was thinner about the legs then he was up top, the exaggerated shape of his riding trousers disguised that somewhat.

It was the sort of build Rhys was typically drawn to, but he stuffed those thoughts down as he moved to the small open space in which he could perform a pose. He stood straight up before putting both long, toned arms up and slowly drew them out behind himself, stretching backwards until his palms rested against the floor. His head then moved smoothly between them with his pelvis as the highest point on his body. The arms moved inward and Rhys folded them back onto the floor until his chest was flush against the rug. That done, he lifted his legs to hover over his head.

Jack looked down at the pose with obvious amusement. Then he raised his commanding gaze to Vaughn, who may as well have been nothing more than a coat rack to him, "Hey, short stuff. Scram. I need to talk to your bother."

Vaughn said, affronted by their potential employer for a second time, "Wait a minute..."

Rhys said quickly, "It's fine, Vaughn. Wait outside." He was not much older then Vaughn, but in their relationship he had always taken the lead as the one in charge of their general affairs. It was a role his adopted mother had encouraged him to take. 

Vaughn smiled with all the false pleasantry he could handle, which in truth was not very much, "Of course..." He made his reluctant exit with Rhys' discarded clothing.

Rhys then moved his long legs the rest of the way back and down until he once again resembled a human with proper anatomy.

"Really nice..." Jack said as he looked back at the younger fellow. "Now show me a front bend... though I think I'd hire you for the back alone... not many people can do both." He put out his cigarette into a decorative ash tray on his desk.

Rhys looked up at the man through his lashes. Swiftly gaining a strong sense of where this was going, he decided to let his body to the talking for him. He carefully removed his shoes, revealing a pair of smart, black and yellow stripped socks. Carefully, he bent his left leg behind his head so that his ankle was up against the back of his neck. Half rocking, half scooting he maneuvered himself onto his back and brought the other leg back as well, straightening them both out behind him. His ass was raised up into the air.

The imposing Ringmaster smirked as he stepped closer, looking down on him. He lifted one shiny, black-booted foot and set it on Rhys' ass, pushing lightly, "You're good, Kiddo... And you're lucky... because I happen to have a bit of a... vacancy at the moment."

Rhys stayed as he was, not wanting to do anything to risk them getting the gig. "Thank you sir... My brother is very talented as well. He's an excellent magician and juggler..."

"Nah." Jack said with no deliberation, removing his foot, "I'm not looking for a magician. I got a spot for you. Nothing for shorty the magnificent."

Rhys unfolded himself regained his feet, frowning, "Jack... Sir... I can't take a job without my brother..."

Handsome Jack shrugged and walked back to sit against his desk, "I'm not running a charity here. It's a business."

Rhys frowned, his mind racing. He absolutely had to make this work. "Look, Jack..." he sauntered closer to him. He attempted first to appeal to his sense of pity, "You can't imagine the time we've had. The owner of the last Circus we were in was... killed without paying any of us. We're living on the ragged edge... but I _swear_ to you... Vaughn will make you money. I will make you money. I'm begging you here to give us a shot..." He began to doubt that the pity angle would work when he noticed the man's erection bulging against his black pants.

Handsome Jack smirked at him, with a hint of darkness to it that never boded well, "Beggars usually get on their knees, Princess."

Without hesitation Rhys dropped to his knees. "Please, Jack..." He fluttered his lashes up coquettishly. "I'll do anything." Even though he was drawn to this man he found himself annoyed at the coercion. It took everything in his power not to let it show. 

Jack laughed mockingly which only further served to grate on Rhys' nerves. "Alright, Princess," He said while his thick fingers unbuttoned the front of his pants and pushed down his boxers to pull free his rigid, uncircumcised cock. "Take care of Papa and I'll let you _and_ the munchkin stay... for a trial period."

Rhys wasted no time in wrapping his hand around the base of Jack's swollen sex and shuffling forward on his knees. "Yes, Papa," He winked up at the other man before licking his lips to wet them.

Rhys had been exchanging his body for money and favors since he was a teenager. It was never a shameful, tawdry act, though it began out of necessity. Rather, it was a pragmatic response to get even more benefit out of something he already enjoyed. He was the sort of man for whom there was never enough money to satisfy his tastes.

While he was not ashamed of his activities, he was he was not exactly proud of them, either. His adopted Mama was most devotedly Irish Catholic in her heart and gave him all manner of religious instruction in his youth that made sure of that. Still, she acknowledged that she herself was a poor sinner and her loose lifestyle bore this out in spite of what she tried to instill in her sons. This, combined with the frequently amoral lifestyle of many of the circus folk he was raised around made sure that her religious instruction never quite took for Rhys.

So it was that he was perfectly at home kneeling in front of this stranger and carefully working his cock with a skilled hand. He massaged the length a few times before gripping it gently near the head and sliding the foreskin gently down to expose the sensitive head. Leaning forward he ran his tongue over the tip before sliding his wet lips around it.

Jack breathed out lustily, "That's it... I knew you'd be a good little cocksucker when you walked in the door."

Rhys made no reply as he continued to slide his lips down the length of the man's penis. He moved his hand back down to he base to squeeze gently, working it in motion with his eager mouth.

One of Jack's large hands came to rest on top of his head. He looked up through his one good eye at the man, knowing some men liked to make eye contact with the person serving them. Their equally mismatched eyes met for a long moment as Rhys pulled the member from his mouth slowly before plunging his warm lips back down around the cock as far as he could take it.

Jack closed his eyes and laughed low, "Oh, Princess..." He pushed his hips forward, forcing himself deeper down Rhys' throat, "I am _so_ glad I didn't strangle you right off the bat for coming in uninvited."

Rhys maintained his composure in spite of the jolt of terror caused by Jack's words. They made him even more motivated to work harder. He used his free hand to grab the man's hip under the tails of his long, red coat, encouraging him to fuck his face harder. Though his jaw started to ache he had a steely resolve to ignore the discomfort.

"Ahhh, fuck Kiddo... Fuck..." Jack's voice sounded rough.

Rhys knew he was close to climax. He had yet to meet a man who could last very long in his expert mouth.

Jack's thick fingers curled into his hair and pulled tight, using it as further leverage to ram himself home into that sweet orifice.

After a ferocious thrust forward, Rhys could feel the salty cum splashing against the back of his throat. He swallowed it down, as there was no other choice, continuing to bob his head in time with the slowing motion of Jack's hips. Rhys could feel his eyes watering a little, though he was not sure why.

Handsome Jack gave a short chuckle as he moved his hand from Rhys' hair to take him, painfully, by the wrist that held his cock. Rhys let go obediently and sat back on his haunches, looking up.

"You're a filthy slut, aren't you, Princess?" The way he said it sounded like a compliment. Rhys' hand was dropped before Jack roughly stuffed himself back into his pants and fastened them up.

Rhys remained kneeling, not quite sure if he was supposed to leave but being unwilling to do so before getting some confirmation that things were definitely settled. What he got was a stinging, though not damaging, slap to the cheek for no apparent reason.

"Alright... get up." Jack made no effort to help Rhys to his feet. His footfalls were heavy as he walked back behind his desk and picked up a second cigarette that was resting near the ash tray.

Rhys got to his feet silently as Jack lit the cigarette.

The Ringmaster took a heavy drag and blew out a cloud of smoke before he said, "If you're still hungry..." He obviously found himself so amusing, "go on and head to the chow tent. You won't be on tonight, either of you. I just want you to watch and learn. After that August or one of my other monkeys will show you to your wagon. You'll have to share it with the munchkin," he shrugged. "And I'll figure out your pay later... Now get out."

Rhys felt his cheeks burning with anger. It was not the first time he had been treated lowly or dismissively by a client. Nor was it the first time he'd been hit by one, but for reasons he was not certain of it made him particularly furious. "Yes, Sir, Mr. Jack," He said nonetheless and turned to slink out of the wagon.

Vaughn, of course, was standing right there as he came out of the door and closed it behind himself. His square jawed face had a sorrowful expression that only deepened when he saw the look on Rhys' face. Clearly, he had heard everything.

Rhys walked past him and grabbed his case by the handle. "Come on... We're hired... there's food..."

Vaughn hurried along and grabbed his case and fell into step. "Thanks... Rhys," he said, genuinely.

The tall man took a deep breath and smiled gently at his companion, "Don't mention it." Then he added, "Seriously. We are not ever talking about this again."

"Fine by me," Vaughn agreed and they made their way to the chow tent.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Glossary of terrible ethnic slurs: Ginzos = Italians. Micks = The Irish. Krauts = The Germans.


	3. Settling In

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The brothers meet some of their fellow performers and finally acquire sustenance.

They paused to ask a roustabout where to find the food tent. As they were making their way there Vaughn made a grunt of aggravation while gritting his teeth. "You know what. This is not okay. I don't like this. I don't like any of this. We should just... I don't know... rob this guy while they're busy with the show and take off."

Rhys paused and stared him down, "Have you gone crazy? Listen to yourself. We don't ever steal from our own kind... we don't steal period. You want to screw these people over like Henderson screwed us? I mean not exactly like that because... never mind. _I meant_ what _I said_ earlier, no stealing from anyone. _Ever_. We're done talking about this."

" _You_ said. _You_ say. You always say _everything_. You get to make all the decisions. Well... you're not my father... and I'm not a child!" Vaughn narrowed his eyes and drew himself up as tall as he could stand, but only reached Rhys' chin.

Rhys frowned and did the same, standing tall and looking down his nose at his brother, "Good thing for you that you're not, or I'd whip your behind and send you to bed for proposing such garbage."

Vaughn sighed in exasperation, "Rhys... that... asshole laid a hand on you. I can see the print of his palm on your face. Neither one of us would stand for it if that was done to a girl. Why do I have to accept it being done to you? Why do I have to accept you _abasing_ yourself for me when you won't even let me help us?"

"Because, damn it!" Rhys exclaimed, equally frustrated at having to explain it. "No man sees a guy like me and then complains about it to a police officer. Nothing I can't handle will happen to me doing what I do. If you get caught... do you remember what me and Mama went through to make sure they didn't take you to the reform school? You wouldn't have lasted there, much less in prison... or on a chain gang. Like that movie a few years back, remember?"

Vaughn set his jaw tightly and glowered up at Rhys indignantly before saying, "I just want to help. This makes me feel... really low. I want to protect you, _too_ , you know."

"I know, brother, I know." Rhys lurched forward and threw out an arm to catch Vaughn around the neck before the attack could be dodged. He pulled him into a headlock before knocking his hat off so he could kiss him on top of his head and grind his knuckles hard into his scalp.

"Rhyyyyyyyyyys!" Vaughn bore it with loving resignation and a look of eternal suffering that would have rivaled the most sorrowful expressions of the holy, martyred saints in church paintings.

Rhys continued, gesturing out with his other arm and keeping Vaughn's head pinned to his breast, "It's fine now. Just... calm yourself. We're hired. We will wow that bastard. I mean, come on. We are not just _good_. We're God damned _astounding_. In fact... if anything, Mr. Henderson was probably holding us back. We're practically... lucky to get the chance to start over. And _If_ this gig turns out awful... then... we'll quit when we've got some cash to our names and ... I don't know... whatever you want to try. We'll figure it out."

Vaughn said, trying to free himself from his brother's grip, "Okay okay okay... don't break my spectacles, you ass." The illusionist reluctantly allowed himself to once more be dazzled by one of Rhys' fancy speeches and was mollified for the moment.

The contortionist set him free and said, "Come on... before I drop dead."

Vaughn shook his head as he bent down to pick up his hat and place it back on his head, "I hate you _so_ much some times."

They made their way into the tent nervously. They had not been with that many different troupes in their career and their reception from the Ringmaster of this one left him concerned for the mood of this circus. The tent was filled with a number of tables. Food was laid out at the far end of the tent. Just the smell of the food made Rhys mouth water and stomach growl.

The first thing Rhys noticed was the mountain of a man sitting on a barrel at the end of one of the tables. His height could not be estimated while he was sitting down but he was sure to be very tall. The imposing man had short cropped black hair and dark grey eyes. He was gaily attired in a sunny yellow and white singlet and gray tights with tall black boots. Massive arms, sculpted thighs and impressive oblique muscles were displayed well in his attire.

Sitting on his shoulder was a cherub-like, round faced woman who could be no more then two feet tall. Rosy cheeks stood out from her otherwise pale, porcelain skin and her lips were painted pink. White-blond hair the color of wheat was styled up on her head in a pretty upswept hair style accented by sparkling hairpins. Pale blue eyes turned to regard the newcomers. Though her stature was small, she had rather well proportioned limbs. Whatever she was wearing was covered over in a feather trimmed robe of white satin.

At the table with them was a lovely young woman with long, braided black hair and striking, blue eyes. Rhys guessed her to be a teenager. She was dressed in a pretty, strapless white dress with small, black polka dots and thick skirts. In spite of her young age, she had an impressive set of swirling tattoos running from the center of her breast and flowing all along her bare left arm in bright blue ink.

The last occupant of their table was mocha skinned woman in a long black robe. She wore her hair in braids laid out in a cornrow pattern that were then collected and braided together atop her head fetchingly. Oversized sunglasses, hardly needed in the shade of the tent, covered her eyes. She tilted the shades down so her brown eyes were only just visible to examine the pair of men.

The man they met earlier, August, was sitting at a nearby table with a most imposing woman. She likely very tall and on the thick side. There were fearsome scars left by a beasts claws across the left side of her face. The eye that they cut across was unseeing and milky white at the iris. She was wearing a black bustier that pushed her ample cleavage up almost obscenely. They were talking to each other quietly in their native tongue and largely ignored the goings on of the room.

By the back of the tent was a table of mostly women and one man. Two tawny skinned, brunette women sat side by side across from a woman with dyed-purple hair a short-haired blond woman. The singular man at the table was a grease covered roustabout with a plain, honest face and welcoming smile.

The small, blonde woman waved to Rhys and Vaughn with excitement, "Hello, Strangers!" She said with utter enthusiasm.

Her large companion added in a deep voice, "Hi."

Rhys took that for encouragement and gravitated towards the friendlier of the tables. "Hello... there. We were just hired on by your man, Jack as performers. He told us to come and get something to eat before the show."

The woman said in her breathy, high pitched voice, "Well that's awesome! Welcome to our Circus. What do you guys do?" She sounded sweet and child like, though she was no child.

Vaughn spoke up for them on this occasion, "I am Vaughn O'Byrne, illusionist, and my brother Rhys, here, will no doubt show off any moment."

Rhys wasted no time in lifting one long leg up and bending it back behind his head while standing on the other with easy balance.

"Oooooooohhh. Bendy," The woman smiled with wide eyes. Then she climbed up to her feet on the man's shoulder. He carefully lifted a trunk-like arm to steady her and make sure she did not fall.

Rhys brought his leg back down to stand on them both again.

"Well I'm Gortys," The woman declared, "Mostly, I'm tiny. This here's L.B." She patted his head. "He's a strong man. He is really, really strong." She pointed out people with the hand not on LB's head as she spoke, "And this is Angel... she does horse acrobatics and isn't she pretty? But don't look at her too much or Handsome Jack will break your neck."

The girl, Angel, looked mildly annoyed at that and waved. "Hello."

Gortys carried on, gesturing to the woman with the sunglasses, " And this, here, is Yvette... she walks a tight rope... with no net because she is _that_ good."

The woman raised her hand and gave a parade wave where her hand only moved at the wrist, "The rumors are true. I _am_ fantastic."

The tiny woman continued, merrily, "Aaaaaand that's Vallory, she trains the tigers and lions. They're so pretty. With her is her son August... he does a little of everything but mainly helps take care of the kitties." Mother and son looked over at the pair before resuming their conversation.

Rhys struggled to keep up with the fountain of information springing from the diminutive woman. Vaughn was much better in these situations. Careful observation and attention to detail where among his strongest suits and among the tricks of his trade. Rhys would surely make his brother go over this all again with him later.

Getting to the last table, Gortys said, "That's Sasha and Fiona... they're our trapeze duo and they're sisters and they're the best ever! They always end the show. And that's Scooter... and Janey... they keep the trucks running... and they fix stuff and are completely nice. And that pretty purple-headed lady there is Athena. She throws knives. Why, she could kill you where you stand!" She said this like it was the greatest thing in the world.

Vaughn bowed and removed his hat, saying, "Vaughn O'Byrne, A pleasure to meet you all."

Rhys added, with a small bow, "Ah, Rhys O'Byrne... and yes... very... nice to meet you all."

Janey stood up from her seat and said, with almost equal cheer to Gortys, "Hi fellahs! Come on, I'll get you some grub," Rhys could not place her accent, but it was pronounced. She had blond hair bound off of her forehead with a plain black bandana. Her bangs were long, but the rest was worn in a rather mannishly short cut. She was also as covered in grease as the man sitting next to her.

"Thank you, kindly," Rhys said gratefully and moved to follow the woman.

"Where are you from?" Janey asked once they were by the serving area. She piled up beans, salt pork, greens and a biscuit onto a tray.

Rhys said, "Well... a bit of everywhere... but we spent most of our off seasons up in Chicago. Our mother had kin up there. And you?"

She handed off a tray to Vaughn who offered a grateful, "Thank you, Miss."

"Just Janey is fine... Gets cold up there in the winter, I hear. Freeze your tits off cold, they say." Then she began working on a tray of food for Rhys, "I'm from Australia, originally. Melbourne. Emigrated over here several years back... just in time for this country to go to hell in a hand basket." She laughed to herself as she handed a tray to Rhys, "But it's all good. I met my girl, Athena and I got this job. What brings you to our happy little family?"

Vaughn supplied the answer to that, "Our last troupe folded and we've been adrift since then."

Rhys' stomach rumbled again to remind him how underserved it had been up to this point. "We lost most of everything we had because the owner took the wrong man's daughter to his bed. Got himself killed and our circus torched. We heard about your troupe and have been trying to catch up to you for a few weeks."

Janey nodded as thought that were an every day occurrence and said, "Nothing like an angry mob to destroy everything in their path." She poured them each up a metal mug of water and carried them back to her table so that they would sit with her group. "Glad you're safe, anyway." She set their mugs down on the other side of Athena and Fiona before resuming her spot on Athena's other side.

Rhys said as he settled into a chair and put his tray on the table, "We're just... extremely grateful to have the opportunity and hope to do you all proud." He waited a moment before eating to see if Vaughn was going to say grace. His brother was inconsistent when it came to religion to the point where Rhys figured at this point it was mostly just catholic guilt and hedging his bets that lead him to carry the rosary and bother with any of it at all.

On this occasion, Vaughn forwent religious trappings and started to eat, with deliberate slowness. They had been waiting so long to eat that neither man wanted to make themselves sick by eating quickly.

The darker skinned of the trapeze sisters, who wore her brown hair in neat dreadlocks, looked the men over and said, "I guess you're getting Vasquez's trailer then."

"Only one free," Her sister nodded. Her hair was cut short and had a dyed lock of red near the front. They were both dressed in mannish shirts and pants.

Vaughn looked over at her, "We were just told we'd be shown to our lodgings later." Then he ventured to ask, "What happened to Vasquez?"

The sisters shared a look that Rhys did not like.

Janey said diplomatically, before anyone else could speak, "He's... gone. Nothing to worry about, he was an ass and I don't think anyone misses him."

Rhys decided to change the topic after swallowing a bite of the food. It felt so good to finally get something in his stomach. Though the fare was plain, it seemed much more delicious due to the general absence of food they had encountered lately. "So tonight we're just watching the show and then tomorrow we talk to the Ringmaster about incorporating our acts."

Athena gave them both a dark, serious expression as she said in a hushed whisper for their table alone, "Just do yourselves a favor. Don't lay a single finger on the girl there... Angel, if you know what's good for you. She's Handsome Jack's daughter." She put an arm around Janey's shoulders and frowned so as to imply threats about messing with Janey, as well.

Vaughn took a sip from his cup of water and said, "He'll have no trouble from us, I promise you. We were raised to respect women." Vaughn gave Rhys small frown.

Rhys glanced over at the girl and tilted his head slightly before looking back to his tray, "Yeah... We're... gentlemen."

"Anything else we should know?" Vaughn enquired.

The short haired, green eyed woman at Rhys' side said, "Just do your job. Work hard... and you should be alright. We're a small circus so we all help each other out. You don't get to be pampered and laze about in your trailer until the show. We all work."

The other performers were mostly finishing up eating and they drifted out while various other workers and support staff drifted in. By the time the men finished eating, only Janey was left at their table after Athena parted with a kiss to her girlfriend.

"Well," Janey said when they were done eating their fill, "Let me run and grab your key and I can take you to your lodgings."

The Australian woman left for a few minutes and acquired the key. She lead them to their abode before heading off to see to her other duties. The red wagon's side had been freshly painted red, blanking out whatever had been painted on the side previously.

Rhys opened the door and stepped inside. It was small, but they were generally not large structures. There was a table at the front with two padded, wooden chairs. There was also a small desk and a large, heavily stuffed lounging chair. A dark blue curtain lead to the sleeping area. Rhys and Vaughn set down their cases.

Vaughn moved to the back and opened the curtain before laughing ruefully, "Single bed brother... how's that for our luck?"

Rhys snickered and settled into one of the chairs, "Better than the ground out in the elements and eaten alive by bugs, at least."

Vaughn shook his head and dropped the curtain to join his brother, "Christ Jesus. I'll sleep on the floor. You deserve the bed."

"We'll see." Rhys shrugged. "We shared a bed for years, we can make it work."

Vaughn made a soft hum as he deliberated, "Maybe... But I call the space next to the wall so you don't knock me out in the middle of the night."

"You have yourself a deal, Brother" Rhys said cheerfully.

They spent their time before the show tidying up their new space.

 


	4. The Big Top (And the Bottom)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A night in the Big Top watching the Circus is followed by a morning alone with Handsome Jack.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this got so long. But... uh enjoy! Smut incoming!

It was hot in the big top, though the humidity was perhaps worse than the heat. A good sized crowd was nonetheless gathered as a even a small circus provided the most elaborate entertainment spectacle most anyone in these towns ever saw.

Janey had secured them a spot in the front row and provided popcorn and cotton candy for them as a friendly gesture. It was a rare treat to sit and watch the show and the brothers snacked their way through the performances.

When the Ringmaster himself appeared, Rhys watched him with special interest. Rhys expected the whiskey-breathed lout from earlier but was surprised to find that he was excellent at his role. His voice was thunderously loud, able to boom above the din to direct the viewer's attention to the next act even as the previous one was torn down. Though still put off by the way the man had treated him earlier, he could not help in finding him charismatic and gorgeous in his outlandish red suit and black top hat.

So far, Vaughn had not brought it up, but Rhys knew well that while his own act required nothing more than his own ability to become a human pretzel, there was much that his brother still needed. The illusionist had lost props, live animals, and most of the tools of his trade as they could only grab what they could carry that fateful night. Without money they could not replace those things.

So, Rhys resolved, he would have to try having another go at this Handsome Jack tomorrow. He would get himself a shave, dress up in the most revealing body suit and see if he couldn't seduce further cash out of the old jerk. Ideally, he could set Vaughn a task to distract him so that he would not notice what he was up to until it was done.

The small size of the troupe did not mean that the show was not entertaining. Indeed, as they watched the various acts both Brothers remarked to one another that they were impressed by the skill of the performance.

Vaughn, in particular, made more than one comment on the fine body of Yvette, the tightrope walker, as she made her death defying walk high above the crowd.

Rhys enjoyed the diminutive Gortys' performance. She danced and tumbled to music with a bit of physical comedy that was so charming that he found himself quite enchanted.

Jack's daughter, the lovely Angel, performed a series of acrobatic feats and gymnastic poses  from the back of a large, white stallion.

Vallory's act, too, was impressive. The big cats always made Rhys nervous, but in spite of her gruesome past injury, the large woman showed no fear and willingly put her head in between the beast's jaws and encouraged them to do a number of tricks. He gained the impression that she liked her large felines more than any of the people with whom she was forced to work.

August aided her in corralling the cats between their cages and the ring. The blonde was now dressed in a crisp, white shirt and spangled vest with khaki pants and tall, black boots. All cleaned up he was very easy on the eyes and Rhys could tell he probably got a good share of attention from the ladies.

Last of all was the Trapeze act. The two sisters, who also worked without a net, were remarkably agile performers. They were introduced as being from an exotic foreign land, and though Rhys was decently self educated he was fairly sure that the location was fictional. From their accents, he would put them from somewhere in the Midwest.

When they were done and the common folk started to make their way home, Vaughn leaned in and suggested, "Come on... Let's make ourselves useful. Offer to help. If the performers are well disposed towards us it will go a good way in making sure we're kept."

Rhys nodded in agreement. "Definitely, Brother. An excellent idea."

They wound up working late into the night with their new companions, save the Ringmaster, who retreated to his trailer with his daughter shortly after the performance. There were perks to being the owner and the owner's daughter after all.

It was late when they stumbled back to their trailer and changed into their sleeping clothes. Vaughn flattened himself against the wall and Rhys laid next to him on the outer edge of the bed.

"See? They're not so bad here. I think this could be alright." Rhys said as he tried to get comfortable on the mattress.

"Vaughn yawned widely and said, "Yeah... well... it's a better outfit than our last, I'd say. But talk to me about it in the morning. Good night."

"Mmm hmm. Good night." Rhys replied. Well fed, hard worked and relatively comfortable, he fell asleep quickly.

*    *    *    *    *

The next morning the brothers were shocked awake by a loud knock on their door. Fiona and Sasha were there to let them know that breakfast was soon to be served and furthermore that there would be flapjacks.

After taking some time to get ready they joined the others at the chow tent. There, they were introduced to some of the performers they had not met the previous day, including the two rather grim seeming clowns who went by the names of Finch and Kroger.

It was a Saturday, so there would be an afternoon and evening performance. Rhys was eager to see if he could meet with the Ringmaster early. He found an opportunity after eating where Vaughn was distracted chatting with the Trapeze sisters and Yvette.

He made his way back to the trailer and changed into his royal blue and white bodysuit and tights. It was sleeveless, to show off his peculiar black and blue tattoos on his neck and arm that he had gotten inked while working for Henderson. He styled his hair carefully with his rapidly dwindling jar pomade before putting his street clothes on over his performance outfit. Lastly, he gave himself a good pinch to each cheek in lieu of rouge to help make him even more fetching.

Emerging from the wagon now much more polished than he had looked even the day before, he strode up with determination to Jack's place and knocked upon the door.

"What?" called Jack, impatiently. Was he ever patient?

"Mr. Jack, sir. I was hoping we might speak?" he replied through the door.

There was a moment of silence, "Yeah, come in."

Rhys threw the door open, dramatically.

The Ringmaster was sitting on the built in bench that ran up the side of his trailer with a newspaper spread open in his large hands. A mug of coffee steamed on the arm of the bench nearby. He folded up the paper as the contortionist entered the room.

Jack said nothing as he set his newspaper aside.

Rhys closed the door, discreetly turning the lock. He walked closer, moving his hips as he did so, trying to cultivate an air of allure. His foot, however, did not want to cooperate with his seduction and struck a rut in the carpeting. It sent him to stumbling straight into the man's arms with a gawking look of shock.

Jack's caught him with his large, strong hands and his laughter was a blend of mirth and mockery. "Damn, Princess. Couldn't get enough of old Jack, eh?"

Rhys could feel his face reddening as he was suddenly pressed against the older man. He made an unfortunate squeaking sound when he tried to speak and he awkwardly attempted to get to his feet, but Jack just set him down on his knee as though he were a child. He stammered, "Well I... God damn it."

Jack kept chuckling. At least his mood seemed better now than it had yesterday. Perhaps sobriety suited him better. "What the hell do you want? What was your name again? Some... Welsh crap... No... don't' tell me... Rhys... right?"

"Uh," Rhys literally had to think about his own name for a moment, "Yes." He cleared his throat, "I ... wanted to talk to you." He was distracted by the man's smell. His own natural scent was accented by the cologne or aftershave he was wearing and Rhys found it intoxicating.

"Spit it out, Rhysie. Kinda like you didn't yesterday." Jack with a leering smile.

Rhys took in a deep breath and started slowly unbuttoning his striped dress shirt. He leaned against the man's broad shoulder as he did so. "Well I was hoping I could talk to you... about our place here... and I wanted to show you some additional poses."

The man smirked as he listened, "Yeah? Is that so?"

Rhys nodded and slid his shirt off letting it fall to the floor. He lay one of his hands firmly on Jack's shoulder. "Yes... You see, Jack..." He shifted, moving one long leg across of Jack's so that he was now straddling him. He put his other hand on the man's other shoulder. "I can tell you're a smart man... and I know that you know talent when you see it. Tell me... have you ever seen a contortionist as good looking as I?”

Jack looked at his arm tattoos and reached up a hand to trace a finger over the bit of blue ink on Rhys' chest where it could be seen over the low necked top. "Nice Tattoos. And Yeah. Actually, I have."

Rhys frowned, not really expecting that answer.

Jack seemed amused at the way he took offence. He added, "But they were all women. So you're good looking… so what?"

Though he made a point of sounding unimpressed, Rhys could feel his arousal and intentionally ground himself down against it.

"Look, I already hired you, and I'm sure you're not here for a thank you blow. So again. What. Do. You. Want." Jack said the last part as though Rhys were somewhat slow in his intellectual capacity.

Rhys said, "There's things we need, Jack... things we lost when E. G. Henderson's Circus was torched. Our owner was tarred and feathered... just... burned alive." He knew the pity angle did not work yesterday but he still hoped it might move the man somewhat.

Jack started laughing again at that, "Oh, man. Classic!" He laughed and shook his head, "I didn't know people still did that!"

Rhys tried not to look so horrified, "Yes... they do. And we were lucky they didn't assault the rest of us. They just burned everything and ran us out."

The older man's laughter continued, "What the hell is wrong with people down here? They're hilarious."

Rhys finally abandoned the tactic and got direct, "Look... I need money. I'd ask for a loan, but I don't want to start things out in debt and you don't seem the loaning type. I thought perhaps instead... You'd be interested in ... trade." He  slid his groin up along Jack's stomach and pressed his ass against the bulge in the man's pants.

Jack's large hands moved from his hips to his round ass and he gave it a firm squeeze. His tongue traced his own lower lip for a moment as he deliberated. "You think you're worth that much, Pumpkin'? Because I think I'm going to need a little more out of you then a single fuck."

This was now going better than Rhys had expected given the terrible start. He leaned his head down by Jack's ear and whispered, so that the man could feel Rhys’ breath against his ear, "How many tickets to ride do you want?"

Jack flashed a predatory smile and said, "I don't want tickets, Rhysie. I want the run of the park. From now until the end of the _next_ Sunday... Whatever I want... whenever I want it... and you have a deal."

Rhys' eyes narrowed slightly as he thought about it. "Until the end of next Friday night. One week." He added a secondary condition, "And you have to agree never to hit me in the face again, or bruise me where it can be seen. I need to be able to perform."

"Awwww, are you sore about that, Princess? It was a love tap. But ... Deal."

Rhys smiled then and said, "Deal."

Jack nodded firmly. "Alright, get in the back in my bed and shut your mouth till I say otherwise." He pushed Rhys to urge him to his feet. "I need to not look at you for a minute."

Rhys frowned a bit and went into the back, closing the curtain behind himself. He removed his shoes and trousers and set them aside before climbing into the man's large bed. It was far more comfortable than his own. A week. He could handle a week with this guy. Jack was a little older and sometimes gentlemen of such an age were prone to lower stamina. Why, this could even turn out to be easy.

As he looked around the small bedroom, he noticed that there were two pictures hanging on the wall. One was clearly the girl, Angel, when she was younger. She had her hair in pigtails and wore a pretty dress.

The other was of an exotically attired, dark-skinned woman with something slightly unsettling about her eyes in spite of her beauty. He took a moment to examine it, curiously.

After a few minutes he heard Jack shout loudly, "AAAANGEL!" Damn the man could project his voice. It made Rhys freeze in place a second.

A short time later there was a knock at the door and the exasperated voice of a young woman, "What?" She tried to open the door but it was still locked. "Are you going to let me in?"

He could hear Jack rummaging around on the other side of the curtain. "Yeah, one second Kiddo. Forgot I locked that."

The door opened and Jack said to her, "Here... take this money... and go into town. You're going to take... ehh... Kroger and the new guy, the magician or whatever. Buy Milquetoast whatever he needs for his act... supplies, materials... bunny rabbits. I don't care. And a few more things. Hold on..."

Her voice sounded suspicious, "Why me?"

Jack's reply was, "Because I want it done _right_ and I can't go myself. Do you think I want to trust that clown with this money?" It sounded like he was jotting down a list.

"Okay... but only If I can drive," The girl countered.

"Fine, but change into something that covers you up. You know the rules." Jack said. There was the sound of paper being torn.

Angel had the bored, annoyed voice that is most at home on a girl of her age, "I _know_ , Dad."

"Alright, then. Be back by noon. Oh, hey... and this is for you, for whatever you need, honey. Love ya."

"Thanks, Dad. love you, too," She said before departing.

The curtain was thrown open shortly after and Jack stepped through, saying, "We're in business, Pumpkin’. We have a few hours free of family. I like the suit... but it's going to look a hell of a lot better on my floor."

Rhys climbed off of the bed and did his best to make undressing as sexy as possible. It only occurred to Rhys at that moment that he had no idea how much money exactly he had sold himself for. If it truly was enough to buy Vaughn everything he would need then this was probably worth it. The honest truth was, though, that he had no idea. It was too late for take backs. He was in it for the long haul. This was the first time he had ever made such an arrangement, and he regretted already that he had not been sharper at the negotiation.

He made a mental note to never bargain while horny again.

Jack just leaned in the door for the moment, watching him work off his clothing.

Rhys left the clothes to fall in a puddle on the floor. He kicked them off to the side with one toe before turning his back to the leering man in the doorway. Lastly, he removed his underwear and tossed them over onto the pile of his clothing. He spread his legs just a bit further and slowly bent forward until he could look at Jack upside down from between his own legs. He spread his arms out behind his knees. "So are you just going to look, then, Ringmaster? Or... are you going to tell me what it is that you want, and how you want it."

Jack looked him over with a broad grin. He sauntered over to a built in drawer and opened it up. He produced a glass jar of Petroleum Jelly and set it on top of the shelf. His fingers worked at unbuttoning his dress shirt. Underneath he had a white tank top with thin straps. "Can't wait for it, can you, Kitten? I respect your go-get-em attitude, but we'll see if you're still by this enthusiastic by Friday."

Rhys started to straighten. Just because he could do these things did not always make them comfortable to hold for a long time

Jack commanded, "No. Stay like that."

Rhys paused and stay as he was bid.

Jack unbuckled his belt and unfastened his pants before letting them drop to the floor. "We're going to try that out first." He took his cock in his hand and gave it a squeeze, not that it needed the encouragement. It was already hard and leaking with a dribble of pre come. He peeled off his white tank and tossed it as well before grabbing the jar and prizing off the lid. Two of his thick fingers slid into the substance and scooped out some of it before slathering it all over his erection. He dipped his fingers in again and set the jar back down.

Striding over to Rhys he used his dry hand to grab Rhys by the back of his hip. The other he used to circle Rhys' spread entrance, slowly.

Rhys breathed out softly as he felt the pressure of one of those fingers pushing at the ring of muscle. The initial entrance of the finger was not as rough as he had expected. The finger wiggled warmly and wetly into him. He focused on relaxing himself when a second, rougher finger started pushing its way in as well.

Rhys closed his mismatched eyes as the man pushed those fingers in and out slowly.

"I gotta give you credit, Rhysie. I never hire whores. I mean, look at me? Right? I guess you can't, from that angle," Jack said as he withdrew his fingers. The man wiped his hand against Rhys' thigh like one might use a towel and then reached out to grip his other side tight.

Rhys swallowed and was finding it hard to keep his balance so long. He closed his eyes and prayed silently that this idiot would not let him fall over.

A moment later Jack's substantial erection was pressing against him before plunging in a slow but relentless conquest of his body. He pushed Rhys forward with his hips, almost unbalancing him, but his powerful hands made sure the contortionist stayed put. "Mmmmmnnn... But I'm glad I made an exception for you. Cuz Kiddo... this is weird. And I _like_ weird."

Rhys made a faint whimpering noise as he could feel the Ringmaster pull back before ramming his shaft ungently into his ass.

"Ohhhh, That's really good, Rhysie, _baby_ ," Jack's voice was a sultry growl.

The contortionist made no reply to the comments, suspecting that Jack liked the sound of his own voice as much as he was actually talking to him. He was too distracted by the ache of holding this position to formulate much of a response anyway. Further distracting him was the sudden urge to mentally examine the poor life choices that lead him to this very moment.

Jack started to establish a rhythm and there was silence beyond the slap of flesh on flesh as made good use of what he paid good money for and the groans that came from the younger man.

"Jack!" Rhys exclaimed once it had become intolerable.

"What's wrong, Kitten, not having a good time?" There was no sincerity to the inquiry, just that slightly mocking tone.

"I need to straighten. May I?" he asked, politely, but not submissively. He was too aggravated to be submissive.

"Good idea. We can try something else... We'll do that one on your back. Jack's got ya. You can straighten up."

Rhys pulled his arms in and stretched himself out back to a standing position with a terrible moan.

Jack held Rhys' hips tightly, keeping the younger man impaled on his cock. When his back was unbent he put a thick, hairy forearm around Rhys' chest and held him tightly against him.

Rhys felt a sudden sensation of pain as the man bit the back of his shoulder hard, holding the skin in his teeth hard enough to leave indentations.

"Ahhaaaahhh. Owww..." Rhys tensed his muscles of his shoulders up and it made the man laugh. “You Bastard.”

Jack withdrew his cock from Rhys’ pert ass, but kept him held tightly against his chest. “That’s not a very nice thing to say, Princess.” He ran his tongue into the grooves left by his teeth in Rhys’ back.

Next thing Rhys knew he was pitching forward, being thrown face first on the bed. It was only a short moment before Jack was over him, holding him down against the bed with one hand while smacking the other palm against Rhys’ white ass. He bent down to bite Rhys’ other shoulder.

Rhys whimpered softly, “I’m sorry Jack.” His body responded positively to the cruelty and he felt his nipples go hard. He pushed his butt up higher.

Jack slapped his pale ass cheek again, harder than before. “On your back. Time to make yourself a hot little pretzel again.” He flipped Rhys over as he spoke and then sat back a little to give the contortionist time to get into position.

The chestnut-haired man was flushed as he lifted one leg up and used his hand to help him stuff that ankle behind his neck. The other leg was put back as well before he straightened the other. He looked up at Jack, who was watching him with the lewdest grin.  

The Ringmaster was back on top of him quickly, wasting no time in thrusting himself back into Rhys’ slick opening. His hands grabbed for the contortionist’s hips and he used that leverage to fuck him as hard and as deep as he could.

No attention was being paid to Rhys’ own jutting shaft, but the way Jack was drilling him hurt so good that he might not need him to in order to come. His moaning became louder and more desperate and he quite forgot about the thinness of the walls. The fact that the man was so masculine, so good looking, and so downright terrifying only heightened the experience. “Jack… Oh, God, Jack,” he cried out. At long last one of those big hands wrapped itself down around Rhys’ cock and started to work it roughly.

Rhys closed his eyes but Jack showed his disapproval by slapping Rhys’ behind again hard.

“No no no. You look at _me_ when you come, Kitten” Jack crooned as he expertly moved his hips. Whatever else the man might be, he was excellent at fucking.

When his eyes opened again, Rhys found Jack was leaning down over him even more. His blue and green eyes bore down into Rhys’ brown and blue ones. The sensation of pleasure was building faster than he could handle it. A guttural cry, that sounded like it came from the mouth of a stranger left the younger man’s lips as he came into Jack’s hand and across his own stomach.

Jack’s eyes closed then, his teeth gritted for a moment, “That’s a good boy… Yeah… all splayed and fucked.” His breathing was heavy as he continued his hard, pounding thrusts. When he did finally climax it was with a ferocious growl that would have been equally at home coming from one of Vallory’s big cats.  The broad shouldered Ringmaster collapsed on top of Rhys and breathed heavily.

Rhys was breathing hard as well, riding the afterglow of his orgasm, though somewhat aching for his patron to get off of him so he could stretch out parts of himself and try to unstretch others.

Abruptly, the older man pushed himself up and climbed off of the bed, declaring, “You’re filthy.”

He said it with such admiration, though, that Rhys could not help but feel a twinge of pride as he unfolded himself so that he was laying on his back.

Casually, Jack opened a drawer, produced a washcloth, and gave himself a quick wipe down before throwing it over his shoulder in Rhys’ general direction, “Want a smoke, Cupcake?”

Rhys put up a hand and managed to not get nailed in the face with the cum towel, “Ah… sure…” He hastily started to wipe himself down as Jack disappeared behind the curtain. He could hear the man washing his hands in the basin. Rhys tossed the towel on the floor and reclined back on the bed.

When Jack returned it was with his tepid mug of coffee and two lit cigarettes.  “Going to need you back here about 11:00 tonight.” He sat down on the edge of the mattress next to Rhys and passed him one of the smokes, leaving the other dangling from the corner of his own lip. “Relax today. Take a nap or whatever. I’ll put you both on the bill when we set up in Thornton.”

Rhys inhaled the smoke into his lungs and exhaled before replying, “I’ll be here. Whenever. However.”

“That’s the deal,” Jack nodded and took a sip from his mug. “So tell me… how’d you lose the eye?”

Rhys took another puff of smoke and blew it out to give himself time to reply. He settled on merely saying, “You don’t get that story…”

“Fine,” Jack said, agreeably, shrugging one shoulder, “I’ll just assume it happened during a tragic dick sucking accident.”

Rhys glowered briefly. His voice dripped with sarcasm as he said, “I am so shocked that you’re single, Handsome Jack.”

Jack flicked his ash on Rhys’ stomach casually. “Not for a week I’m not, Rhysie boy. This is going to be the most fun I’ve had in _ages_.”


	5. Props and Impropriety

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The brothers have an argument before continuing to settle in to their new troupe. Later that night, Rhys has his second appointment with Handsome Jack.

After parting with Handsome Jack, Rhys decided to take him up on the previously discussed nap. With the bed all to himself he was napping pleasantly in no time. His lazy, mid-day slumber was rudely cut off when out of a deep sleep he was awoken by hands grabbing the collar of his yellow-striped white shirt and pulling him up to a sitting position.  “Rhys David Llewellyn O’Byrne, what did you do?”

The good, brown eye that still remained to him was bleary as it took in the angry, flushed visage of his younger brother. “What?! Me?! Nothing!” he shouted, both eyes wide in shock. He had no idea what exactly was happening, but it was always wisest to insist one had done nothing wrong when so accused.

“Don’t lie to me, brother.” Vaughn let him go and glared, “I just got taken to town and lavished with things that I know neither of us can afford, and I have no doubt in all my mind that the Ringmaster didn’t suddenly turn into a generous soul overnight and decide to take pity on me. So what did you do?”

Rhys’ lip pursed up into his characteristic pout with narrowed eyes and he said, “So I made a little deal with the man. What of it?” long fingers flew to his molested collar and he tried to smooth them down.

Vaughn balled one hand up into a fist and thundered, “Damn you, Rhys. I didn’t ask you to! I didn’t want you to! Stop making me complicit in your affairs if they’re your damn business!”

Rhys huffed out a breath, doing his best to remain calm in the face of the fury. “You needed supplies,” he muttered.

Vaughn jutted a finger out at him, “And I would have found a way on my own. Without getting caught up in your…” His head shook as he sought to find a word that was suitably offensive, but not excessively so, before spitting out, “Wickedness.”

Rhys attempted to be cavalier and said with a grandiose shrug, “Well I am _terribly_ sorry for caring, brother… and sorry that I vex you so with my unnatural sodomite ways.”

He had barely gotten the sentence out before Vaughn’s hand shot out lightning quick and slapped him square across the face so hard that his face was rocked to one side and his ears rang. Though they had occasionally had bouts of brotherly violence, Rhys was unprepared to be so assaulted.

“Don’t you _dare_ put words into my mouth that I _never_ said.” Vaughn’s fierce whisper was somehow more frightening than his shouting, “In all our years I’ve _never_ said a word against your inclinations and the way God made you. That would be an insult to you… to Mama… and to your sainted mother as well and I’d rather be damned to _hell_ before I would _ever_ do that. This isn’t about who you take to bed, Rhys… It’s not even about the whoring. It’s about the lying, the sneaking, and your disregard for me and the way I feel.”

Rhys could feel his eyes watering as he took in a shuddering breath. He closed his eyes and turned away. Vaughn had grown almost as good as Mama at taking him on a guilt trip. He was definitely as good as she was at face slapping.

Vaughn sighed heavily, suddenly stricken with guilt for his temper,  “I know you mean well. And… I appreciate it… that you put me above you in terms of your… sacrifices... but if you had asked me I would have stopped you. Which is the only reason you didn’t and you know that full well.” Out of seemingly nowhere a handkerchief appeared in his hands and he offered it to his brother.  

Rhys snatched it from his hand and was somewhat relieved to find it didn’t end up being an endless chain of handkerchiefs. That was only funny so many times. He dabbed at the corner of his eyes. “You hit me harder then the Ringmaster.”  

Vaughn frowned and squinted at him, “You didn’t deserve to be hit by _him_.” He sighed and sat down next to Rhys, putting one arm around his back.

“And I did from you?” Rhys asked, skeptically. He squinted back.

“Ooooh yes.” Vaughn lifted his chin as he looked Rhys right in his good eye, “No one calls my brother a unnatural sodomite, not even my brother.”

Rhys’ lips puffed into a pout, “I’m going to wait until you aren’t wearing your glasses… and I am going to slap you so hard your head will spin. So… look forward to that.”

Vaughn started to chuckle at the threat before exclaiming “Oh! I remember the _other_ reason I was so angry at you!”

Rhys frowned, “What’s that?”

“I was having the most amazing conversation when I got dragged off. That tightrope walker, Yvette. She was going to show me her library. She has a collection of pulps, Rhys. And all the early H. G. Wells… and Jules Verne… and we’ve read dozens of things in common…. and she’s been interesting places, Europe… Mexico.” Vaughn had light in his eyes that Rhys had not seen in a long time. “I may have actually… successfully… come off as _not_ weird.”

“She’s in the circus, Vaughn.” Rhys smirked. “We’re all weird.” He pursed his lips again. “I didn’t mean to mess up your bookish seduction, though… aaaaaand I feel _really_ bad about that. However, the good news is… there’s plenty of time left between now and fall to get to know her better.”

Vaughn assured, “That’s the only reason I’m not still hitting you. How’s getting to know the Ringmaster going for you.”

“You might start hitting me again if I do tell you,” Rhys observed, “But… he’s… worse than I thought and not as bad as thought at the same time. I don’t know… good in the sack at least. Either way I’m going to be seeing… a lot of him… for the next week.”

“Week?” Vaughn shook his head, “You’d make a deal with the devil himself, Rhys. Please be careful with yourself… Do you still carry your knife, at least?”

“Usually…” Rhys shrugged, “You?”

Vaughn held up his hands and turned them to show the unfolded penknife in each.

Rhys could swear that he did not see him produce them. He had not seen him move at all until he lifted his hands.

Vaughn then put the blades together between his flattened hands and slid them against each other and when he opened them again the blades were gone.

Rhys laughed at that. “I’m pretty sure you’d be burned at the stake not too many years back.”

“After what we’ve seen of late, It’s still a distinct possibility,” Vaughn smiled wanly.

There was quiet for a moment before Rhys said, “Hey… Vaughn. What’s the daughter like?”

Vaughn mused upon his answer before articulating, “Before I get to her… allow me to say that the clown is terrifying… We’ve known some angry clowns and this guy… errrgh. He unsettled me. I was also afraid of looking at Miss Angel as I don’t want to wind up getting my neck broken. As for her personality, she’s alright. I mean… she seems smart as a whip. Nearly drove us off the road at one point going too fast… but I couldn’t blame her. If anyone ever let me drive anything I’d go as fast as I could.”

Rhys scooted back and leaned his back up against the wall. “You’ll have a car, some day…”

Vaughn grinned, “I’d settle for having my own trailer again. I love you, but this is awful.”

“Amen.” Rhys replied.

Things went quiet again and Rhys was rubbing at his cheek when Vaughn said, “Hey… I’m sorry for that. I just got so angry that you would think… that I could think like that.” He reached up and took off his glasses, folded them neatly, and set them on the bed before closing his eyes, “It’s best if I don’t see it coming or I’ll dodge.”

Instead of the expected slap, Rhys put him in another headlock and kissed his temple. “I’m not going to hit you, you ass... I’m sorry too.”

*    *    *    *    *

Rhys and Vaughn weren’t inclined to be lazy in spite of having free time. They spent the afternoon working on sorting and putting away the items and materials the illusionist procured.

Of everything Handsome Jack had paid for, Rhys was most pleasantly surprised to find that Jack had included a stipend for personal items for both men.

Vaughn, the saint, made sure to pick Rhys up a jar of his favorite pomade along with soaps, a new toothbrush, a razor along with new socks. New socks always made everything in life seem better. They represented a fresh start.

A while later, Rhys was sorting out the rabbit situation. He always adored the white bunnies Vaughn used in his act and he was more than happy to feed them and set them up in their nice little hutch. Vaughn was off talking to the rousties about the construction of a large box for sawing people in half.  

The lanky man had one of the creatures hoisted up to his chest and he was petting its little white head carefully when he heard a voice from behind himself.

“We haven’t had bunnies in a long time,” Angel said as she came around from behind him. The young woman was wearing her relatively skimpy performance outfit as the first show of the day was soon to be on. She had a cream colored, ruffled top that was both sleeveless and midriff-baring. The matching ruffled bottom left her legs on display, covered only in sheer tights. She was wearing short, pink heels with open toes.

Rhys, looked around himself, nervously. There was not anyone in their immediate vicinity and that troubled him. “Oh… Hi.”

Angel stepped forward and reached out a finger to stroke over the creature’s head. “Poor little things. All cooped up. How is your day going, Mister O’Byrne?”

Rhys cleared his throat, “Rhys is fine… but I am not sure I am supposed to be talking to you alone…”

Angel rolled her eyes in frustration at him and withdrew her hand, stepping back. “My Father isn’t going to hurt you for talking to me.”

Rhys’s eyebrows scrunched together, “Why not?”

Angel looked at him like he may be slightly stupid, “You’re queer, right?”

Rhys looked nervous now, “No… I mean… Maybe. What does it matter?” He kept petting the bunny for moral support.

Angel put her hands on her hips and cocked her head at him, “I’m not stupid. I can tell when my father’s trying to get rid of me… and I know he doesn’t care for magicians… and he’s not really big on charity.”

Rhys paled, this was beyond a question of his sexual orientation. “Uhm… I…”

“He’s such a hypocrite,” She shook her head and stared at him for a time, her head tilted to one side.. It seemed to upset her that he wouldn’t speak back and she started to walk back towards her her trailer. She paused and looked over her shoulder and said, “Not a lot gets by me, Mr. O.” With that she was gone.

The interaction distressed him for the rest of the day, so he tried not to think of it. Fortunately, between helping Vaughn, practicing his own craft, and aiding here and there with the performances, he was kept plenty occupied.

After the show Vaughn headed off with Yvette to look at her books, which sounded to Rhys like a euphemism, but knowing his brother’s love of books was probably legitimately that. He stayed behind at their trailer, lounging on the bed and looking up at the ceiling. Every so often he glanced at his watch to gauge the time while waiting for his watch to tell him it was time to for him to head into the proverbial lion’s den.

The night was warm, but not quite so humid as the previous one. He looked up at the moon all bright and full and breathed in the night air as he wandered his way through the dimness to the Ringmaster’s trailer. As he got close, he heard the sound of an argument with raised voices gave him pause.

He couldn’t make out much of the words, but it sounded like the Ringmaster was having an argument with his daughter. Rhys decided to retreat a moment too late as the door to Jack’s trailer was yanked open.

Angel stepped through and slammed it behind herself and strode off to her trailer, which to Rhys’ horror was the one closest to Jack’s. A moment later Jack threw the door open again and walked out of it far enough to shout, “If you’re such an adult why are you still slamming doors, Kiddo?” He was still wearing his black ringmaster pants with just a white tank top under shirt.

“I hate you,” Angel said venomously and slammed the door to her own trailer.

Rhys attempted to shrink back into the shadows, but Jack had already seen him.

He pointed at Rhys, “You. Get your ass in here,” He growled as he walked back into his trailer, leaving the door open.

Rhys walked inside quickly and shut the door behind himself. The beating of his heart seemed so loud to him that surely Jack could hear it from where he stood.  

“Lock it,” Jack commanded, his voice tight with anger.

Rhys locked it, reluctantly, before putting his back to the door and folding his arms in front of himself.   

“Don’t ever have kids, Rhysie. Ungrateful little monsters, all of them,” the Ringmaster shook his head. “You do everything you can for them, and It’s never enough.”  

Rhys did not know what to say to that, “I… was not planning on that.”

Jack paced for a moment behind his desk. He grumbled, “She is so melodramatic.”

“I… wouldn’t… know.” Rhys said quietly.   

Jack had a glass with a couple fingers of whiskey sitting on his desk. He picked it up, tossed it back and swallowed it down quickly. “Come on back.” He pushed past the curtain and went into his bedroom.

Rhys followed and started to unbutton his shirt preemptively.  

The older man went rummaging in his dresser and pulled out a cork stoppered jar and set it on top of his dresser. Then he opened a different drawer and removed the riding crop that was part and parcel of his Ringmaster’s get up.

Rhys was tossing his shirt on the floor as he glanced over. “Jack…” he said nervously with a  frown.

The darker haired man turned and stalked towards him.

Rhys flattened his back against the wall, “What are you doing?”

Jack walked up to him and used the leather at the end of the crop to touch the underside of Rhys’ chin before giving it a little tap. “I’m not in a good mood tonight, Kitten… So I want you to think really carefully before you talk tonight.”

Rhys swallowed, “Alright… What do you want me to do.” While somewhat cowed, he refused to be a pushover so he looked the man in his strange eyes.

“Finish undressing and get on your hands and knees on the bed.” Jack tapped Rhys’ hip with the crop.

Rhys pulled off his undershirt, but tried to see if he could perhaps put a halt to this. A little pain could be kinky but that thing looked like it meant business. “Jack… I… there’s plenty of things I can do for you that aren’t…”

Jack shook his head and cut him off, “Whatever. Whenever. That’s the deal, Rhysie. Are you going to Welsh on this? Because that’s going to make me really angry. I seem to recall you only specifically mentioning that I can’t hit you in the face.”

Rhys frowned and stared straight into his eyes and said, “Sadist.” He unfastened his pants and shoved them before pushing his boxers down and stripping off his socks.

Jack shrugged, “Not my fault you’re shit at negotiating, buddy. Stop being such a baby.”

The contortionist stepped around Jack to get to the bed. He climbed onto it, crawling on all fours before giving Jack a dirty look over his shoulder.

Jack followed behind him and put a hand on the back of his shoulders and used it to push him downward until his face was against the mattress and just his ass was up in the air.

Rhys gripped the sheets and rested his forehead against the mattress. He tensed up every muscle waiting for the Ringmaster to start wailing on his poor skin. This brute was going to mark him for weeks with that torture tool. He was furious at this old pervert for being such a rough bastard and at himself for being fool enough to get himself into this situation.

Jack stepped back and admired the view for a while before rubbing the leathery end over the skin of his backside. “That is a fantastic ass,” Jack mused to himself before tapping the end of the crop against Rhys’ skin.

Rhys took in a sharp breath and was shocked to find the man didn’t haul that powerful arm back and whip him full force. Rather, when the first blow fell it was incredibly light. The one after that was not much worse.

Incrementally, the blows became firmer, though they sounded more frightening than they actually felt and Rhys was dismayed to find his cock growing hard in response as his skin became pleasantly pink and warm. He buried his face in the mattress.

Jack’s laughter rang out in the small space and he paused to rub the leather across the flesh of the the younger man’s backside before sliding it between his legs to run down the length of his erection.

Rhys moaned in spite of himself into the sheets. This was not at all what he was expecting.

Handsome Jack brought the crop down now a little harder, and Rhys body rebelled against him by enjoying it. He found himself longing to touch himself as Jack whipped him over and over and over again over every inch of his exposed ass.

Rhys whipped skin felt tingly and hot. He could feel himself sweating, the rivulets running down his trembling legs as the leather bit cracked ever harder against his naked flesh. Every impact sent a jolt of pleasure straight to his groin along with the pain. He turned his head to rest his cheek on the mattress instead.

Jack stopped whipping him after a while and set the crop down. He spit into his hand before reaching out between Rhys’ legs to take him by his rigid prick and squeeze it in his large hand.

Rhys moaned in relief as the man stroked his rough fingers over his sensitive shaft. He moaned even harder as Jack resumed slapping him, harder now, with just his free hand while continuing to squeeze and knead his cock.

Rhys’ sobbed in pleasure as the as he came all over Jack’s crimson duvet.

Jack milked his cock for everything it was worth and with a devilish chuckle quoted a bit of Hamlet, “The lady doth protest too much, methinks.”

“Fuck… you…” Rhys moaned, his hips undulating enticingly.

“You mean ‘Fuck Me’ Pumpkin’... And I will. just give me a moment.” Stepping away, Jack grabbed a towel from a drawer and wiped his hand on it before he retrieved his trusty jar of petroleum jelly. He disrobed of all his clothing save his socks and sock garters.

Rhys craned his head behind himself to look at the man as he spread the greasy substance over his thick, uncut cock. In spite of already finding release, he craved the thought of that monster entering him again and filling him.

Jack strode purposefully behind him. He set the towel down nearby and started to position himself at the kneeling man’s puckered entrance.

Rhys closed his eyes, not even caring that the brute wasn’t going to attempt to stretch him before starting.

Jack entered him from where he stood, slowly but insistently as Rhys whimpered. He pulled Rhys’ hips backwards to meet his thrust.

Rhys spread his legs further and groaned as Jack took him for the second time. After the first few thrusts started to push back to meet them. He felt light headed and hazy, like he had been drinking or smoking the jazz cigarettes.  

The hour was late and Jack lacked the stamina of their morning romp. It only took a few minutes of hard thrusting before he came inside his rented lover with a soft grunt. He pumped his cock a few more times into that slick tunnel before gripping a handful of Rhys’ backside and giving it a painful squeeze that made the contortionist yelp and moan.

With a laugh Jack withdrew and picked up the towel to wipe off the cum and lubricant.

Rhys pushed himself up on to his hands as Jack used the other end of the cloth to wipe him down. “Uh. Thanks,” He said quietly.

“Want a drink?” Jack asked as he wandered back past the curtain.

“Sure…” Rhys muttered as he got up off of the bed and moved to start putting on his undershirt.

He could hear the man washing his hands. “That wasn’t so bad now was it, Rhysie?”  

“No… no… that was… good.” Rhys replied, pulling on his boxers. He took a moment to rub his hands over his backside. It was hot to the touch and something about that was a bit exciting.  

He could hear Jack pouring the drinks before there was the sound of a zippo lighter being lit. When he came back into the room Rhys was sitting on the edge of the bed, pulling on his socks.

“What the fuck is this?” Jack asked, sounding incensed. He  held one glass of whiskey in each hand and his cigarette hung from the corner of his lip.

Rhys blinked owlishly at his angry tone, and his heart started beating like he had been caught in a misdeed, “What is what?”

“Where the fuck do you think you’re going?” Jack said, walking closer.

“I thought... “ Rhys said, before trailing off in confusion as he shrunk back.  

“You thought wrong.” Jack nonetheless handed him a drink. “Jesus, calm down.”  

Rhys said, “I’m sorry… I’m not going anywhere…” He took the drink, “Thank you.”

Jack took the cigarette out of his mouth and inhaled from it, holding the smoke in a moment before exhaling. He held the end up to Rhys’ lips.

Rhys took a drag from the cigarette and exhaled.  

“Kiddo, my back hurts like a bitch… So have your drink… I’ll have mine… then you’re going to take that oil over there on the dresser and you’re going to do your best to fix this bullshit.”

“Oh!” Rhys said, “Oh of course… yeah. A massage? Great. I can do that.”  

“You’re gonna sleep here too.” Jack knocked back his drink fairly quickly and set the empty glass on his dresser before pinching the cigarette out between his thumb and forefinger.

“Won’t… that… make it… obvious?” Rhys asked with open anxiousness.

Jack snorted and stretched out on his stomach on the bed, pulling a pillow under his face, “Even my daughter’s figured out I’m plowing you, Princess. You’re kinda loud… and you left your shirt on my floor this morning.”

Rhys put his face in his hands and groaned, “Fuck.”

“Now Chop chop. I need less of the whining, more of the massaging.”


	6. Sunday Morning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rhys continues to make friends among the other performers. Handsome Jack continues to vex Rhys as much as possible.

Rhys woke up to a thick, hairy arm clamped tightly around him. Rhys was laying with his back smashed sweatily against Jack’s chest. It was uncomfortably warm in spite of the earliness of the day and he attempted to squirm free. His employer must have also been awake because he tightened his grip and would not release him. Though they were of similar height, the other was so broad about the chest and shoulders as to make Rhys feel small by comparison.

“Good Morning, Pumpkin’.” Jack said cheerfully. They were both nude, as Jack had insisted on Rhys taking his clothing back off. Rhys had insisted on removing Jack’s socks and garters before giving him a thorough massage.

“Morning,” Rhys yawned, “Your bed is incredible, though I’d be much more comfortable if I could breathe.”

“Tell me something I don’t know,” Jack said with his lips at Rhys’ ear. “Like, say, how you became Little Orphan Rhysie.” He rose up slightly so he could stare down at Rhys’ profile.  

Rhys snorted and shook his head, “I wasn’t… exactly orphaned. In the sense that I didn’t live in some orphanage waiting for Daddy Warbucks.”

Jack finally loosened his grip and released his partner and sat up as he listened. “No? Because you look like you need a daddy to me.”  

Rhys stayed as he was so his gaze was off against the wall and not on the other man, “Do you want to hear this or not? Because I’m just as fine not divulging.”  

Jack said, “Alright, alright. Go on.“

“My mother and Vaughn’s mother were together. A couple, since... I guess... not too long after he was born.”

Jack interjected, “Hot,” as he worked on stretching out his arms and back.

Rhys shushed him, “She was a contortionist as well... Idelle Llewellyn was her name. She died… when I was seven. My other mother, Maeve, was a laundress and cook for the troupe. She kept me, and gave me her name so people didn’t ask too many questions. There was no way any of it was legal.” He shrugged and finally started to sit up, “But my mother never had any people that would claim her… so I would have ended up… somewhere terrible.”

“Huh.” Jack said, simply, “Not as dramatic as I was expecting… but there were lesbians so that made up for it. Were your moms both lookers, then? I bet yours was. She had to have had an amazing set of legs.”

Rhys gave him a dark look with narrowed eyes, “You’re disgusting… and I don’t remember what she looked like so… imagine what you like.” He shrugged,” Now it's my turn.” One of his slender fingers pointed to the picture of the dark skinned woman on the wall near the bed, “Is that your wife... Angel’s mother?”

“Nah, kiddo. My wife’s been dead a long time… that there is Nisha Kadam… my old girlfriend.” He sighed heavily as he looked at the photograph. “Hot damn, was she something. Family came up from India. She had this thing she did with flaming whips. It was… incredible. She could terrify grown men if she had a mind too. She would have scared you shitless, Rhysie.” He sighed again. “But she died. Some kind of fucking illness my stupid ass doctors couldn’t fix. She’s buried for three years now up by my place outside of Los Angeles.”

“Sorry for your loss… So, are you from California?” Rhys asked, curiously.

Jack nodded, “Born and raised. It’s where Angel and I go in the off season… but enough of sad personal story time. We both have things we need to do. You are going to go get yourself washed up and go to breakfast.” He started climbing out of bed. “And I have business in town. So I’ll be dropping off my key before I go...  and then you’re gonna be coming back here and cleaning up my trailer.”

Rhys threw his legs over the side of the bed and frowned, “Wait… what?” It wasn’t that he didn’t hear, he just could not fathom why he of all people would be expected to do that.

“I need you to get my laundry and this bedding you keep cumming all over taken to the laundry lady… I need everything dusted… the carpets beat out… dishes taken to be cleaned…”

Rhys was having a hard time processing the instructions, “ _You_ … want _me_ … to clean?”

“Are you stupid, Rhysie?” Jack was certainly looking at him like he was, “Sometimes I swear you don’t speak English. I get whatever I want and what I want is for you to clean this mess up.” He gestured to the room in general.

Rhys’ cheeks flushed red as he got up out of the bed. “I… “ He sighed, “Fine, Jack. I’ll clean your trailer.”

Jack winked at him, “That’s a good boy. Don’t go in my desk drawers. I’ll know if you do… and so help me God, if you do... we’ll repeat last night’s activities only with tears, screaming, and bruises that you’ll be lucky to see heal in a month.”

Rhys bent down and grabbed his clothing from the floor.  He didn’t even want to dignify any of that with a response. He dropped his clothing on the bed and started to dress.

“You got me, Cupcake?” Jack drawled out the question.

Rhys tried to push his fury down as he yanked up his boxers, “I got you, Jack.”

Jack seemed delighted by the younger man's anger. He leaned against the wall and watched him dress, “Awwwwwwww, poor Rhysie… should have specified that you were only available for sex… They always said you can’t make a whore into a housewife, but let’s find out.”

Rhys reminded himself silently that even after this week was over this man was still going to be his boss. He tried to dress as quickly as possible so he could get away from the man before he said something he might regret. “Just… drop it off before you leave and I’ll take care of everything.” _You dirty, miserable son of a bitch._ He had to think it instead of saying it. He decided he was fine in his undershirt and pants; going so far as to just grab his shoes and walk out with them in his hands rather than take the time to put them on his feet..

“Oh, and stop by the Seamstress, too. Get your measurements taken,” Jack added as Rhys was halfway out the door.

“Alright, alright…” He grumbled before shutting the door behind himself.

The walk of shame back to his own trailer was every bit as miserable as he anticipated it to be. He got a fair bit of side eye and smirks from the roustabouts and it did nothing to help his terrible mood.

The only thing to bring him any level of amusement was running into Vaughn trying to hurriedly unlock the door to their trailer dressed in his poorly-buttoned shirt from yesterday. When he got the door open he turned and looked at Rhys, red faced.

“Sooooooo… nice evening, then Brother? Very good… books I presume?” Rhys asked as he followed him inside.

“Very good… ah…You look… angry. Everything alright?” Vaughn said as he immediately went to start gathering up clothing and things to go bathe.

“Yeah… the night was fine… but that prick is making me clean for him like a damnable maid. I made the mistake of telling him I’d do anything he wanted,” He whined, hoping for an acknowledgement of his woes and a bit of comfort.

Vaughn kept his mouth closed but he could not suppress the corners of his lips from quirking up. His cheeks puffed up with air as he tried not to laugh.  The struggle was soon lost and he laughed harder then he should at his brother’s misery.

Rhys fixed him with a glare, “God, I hate you. I hate everything.”

Vaughn put his hand on his stomach and said while still chortling, “I hate you too.”

 

*    *    *    *    *

 

Normally the chow tent was a place of joy for someone who enjoyed food as much as Rhys. It was the heart of most circuses. Many performers and workers alike were compelled to join in spite of low wages just due to the promise of three hearty and varied meals a day.

Yet this morning, when Rhys went to breakfast, it was with a wave of anxiety that hit him like a sack of bricks. The opinion of the performers, whom he considered his peers, meant more to him than he wanted them to. He was sure they would have a low opinion of someone who would show up and immediately jump into the bed with the boss for favors.

He mentally rehearsed his options. If confronted, he could be apologetic and ashamed; earnestly explaining that he had let desperation rule his reason and hope they would ultimately be won over by his sometimes charming personality. Or he could just play like none of it mattered to him in the slightest and that anyone’s poor image of him was not of a bit of concern  to him at all.  It was hard to make up his mind.

When he had gathered a plate of bacon, eggs, toast, and a mug full of coffee and milk, he chose to sit with Gortys and LB.

“Good morning!” Gortys said with vast cheerfulness.

Rhys hoped some of it would rub off on him. “Hey… Good morning.”

“Hi,” LB said, sounding friendly. He was eating a rather massive collection of eggs and some kind of fried meat. Rhys counted eight pieces of toast and wondered to himself how many the strong man had started with. Though he was curious as to the nature of their relationship, he was reluctant to ask anything personal that might get personal questions directed back his way. So he sat a moment in silence, dumping several spoonful's of sugar into his cup.

Gortys was perched on the edge of the table with her legs dangling over the sides. She had a cup of tea on a saucer sitting next to her and a plate with sliced fruit. “When are we finally going to get to see you and Vaughn perform, Rhys?”   

“We will be on the bill in the next town, so… Friday, it sounds like.” Rhys replied before blowing into his cup to cool it.

“That’s fantastic, I’m sure you will do amazing,” She replied.

Rhys asked, “So we’re packing up and heading out tomorrow, right? For the next town?” while he waited for her response he took a sip from his mug before starting to eat.

“We sure are,” She replied, “A bigger town this time. They even have a movie house. You and your brother should come with us to see a picture with us some time. LB, Angel, Yvette and I go to see them when we can.”

“We would love that. Thank you,” He smiled a bit at the invitation. “There’s a million things we need to get done. I’m honestly a little nervous.”

Gortys smiled like she was the very embodiment of friendliness itself, “Well if you need help you just let us know.”

The strongman nodded his head and swallowed a bite of his breakfast, before he spoke, “We all help each other.”

Rhys said, “Thank you, both... “ He could feel his anxiety easing somewhat. “The same is of course true here.”

They ate their meal together and chatted amicably for a while. The strong man and small woman eventually excused themselves to go about their day...

Rhys sat alone a while, drinking a second cup of coffee when Angel appeared again. She was wearing a modest blue dress and a pair of black boots that looked far too clunky for her feet. Her hair was braided back into bun.  

Rhys saluted her with his cup of coffee. “Miss Angel.”

“Mr. O’Byrne,” she replied as she drew near, “My father sent me with his key.” Her arm extended to dangle the ring with a single key on it.

Rhys squinted one eye and it twitched a moment in involuntary infuriation before he took the key carefully from her hand. “Thank you.” He was rather hoping she would go away, but she sat down beside him.

She regarded him and his silence a moment before saying softly, “I can help you, If you’d like me to.”

Rhys said, “Oh… no no… I don’t think I’m supposed to… have help? I honestly don’t know… Your father… Well… he’s intimidating.”

Her piercing eyes looked into his and she asked simply, “Then why are you with him?”

Rhys shook his head, “Oh no. No, no… no… I would rather be murdered, and I say this as someone upon whom the act has been three times attempted, than have this conversation.” He held up three fingers with his free hand. “You’re a really nice seeming girl, Miss Angel. And I’m sorry you and your old man are in disagreement about… whatever it is you’re in disagreement about… but I don’t need more trouble.”

Angel’s brows moved together in a way that evoked Jack in Rhys’ mind. “He’s taking advantage of you. At least let me keep you company.”

Rhys swallowed the last of his coffee in a hurry, “Please, have pity on me. I’ve spent a month in misery, losing almost everything I ever owned and i just want to not be fired.”

“You’re not going to get fired,” Angel said with absolute confidence in her judgment, though she offered no evidence to back up for her position.

Rhys pushed to find out that reasoning, “How do you know?”

“Whatever he told you when he hired you... We needed fresh blood… and he says you’re quite a talent. Talked about you a lot yesterday.”

“I am good at what I do. I take pride in it. Which is why I should be getting myself back into practice to start performing instead of being a maid. He does appear to genuinely enjoy demeaning people.”  

“Yeah… he’s a real asshole,” She agreed, “Come on… I’m going to help you. He won’t be mad. I promise.” She rose and placed her hands on his arm and tried to yank him to his feet.

“Alright, if you’re sure.” Rhys rose with her help. He had the distinct impression that this was a bad idea and that it might be literally better to run away, but he once again swam against the tide of his own good judgment. “What were you and he fighting about?” he asked as they started for Jack’s place.

Angel sounded like someone who had been waiting a long time for someone to to complain about this to, “I am a grown woman, and he still treats me like I was a child. He terrifies every man that ever tries to speak to me away. Then, he does as he pleases and throws it in everyone’s face. It is so… frustrating.”

“Not… trying to take his side, but It’s natural for parents to want to look out for their children.” Rhys tilted his head to one side, “I grew up largely in the circus, too... but my mother gave up trying to control me when I seventeen. Of course, I was, at that point, our biggest breadwinner so she did not have a ton of options.”  

Angel shrugged as she walked. “If it were up to him, he’d just keep me like a bird in a cage. Let out to fly only for performances, practices and other necessities.”  

Rhys nodded a bit and asked, “And do you really hate him… or were you just angry?”

Angel sighed, “No. He’s my father. I love him. He’s just impossible sometimes.”

Rhys said, “He’ll have to come around eventually…” Eventually they made it to Jack’s trailer and he unlocked the door. “I’m going to drop off the laundry and get a quick fitting from the seamstress. Then I’ll be back… if that is okay.”

She nodded agreeably and started gathering up the dishes to set them outside for the time being, “I’ll be here.”

When he returned she had moved many things out of the trailer in order to make it easier to sweep out.

“Thank you, for helping me with this, Miss Angel. You are very kind… and I never yet got  chance to tell you how much I enjoyed your act. That stallion is a beauty and you carry yourself with grace.”

Angel beamed at that, “Thank you very much. I’d like to see your act. Can you do the thing where they fit you in box?”

Rhys chuckled, “No… Not a very small box anyway… I used to also do a ribbon act… but I injured myself a bit at one point and haven’t done it in a long time.”

Angel said, “Oh! I’ve always wanted to try that… but working with Butt Stallion takes up all my time and energy.”

Rhys blinked several times, “Butt Stallion… is… the horse’s name?”

Angel grinned, seeming very slightly embarrassed about that fact, “My father is really weird.”

“He … really… really is.” Rhys concurred while picking up the duster to dust the wood work.

They passed the morning pleasantly, despite the work. Their conversation eventually turned to all things entertainment. Both had a bit of passion for the movies and they discussed which actors and actresses were most good looking and which films were their favorites. Rhys sensed that more than anything else this young woman was just lonely and looking for someone new to talk to.

By the time they were done cleaning, he found that he was not really angry about the cleaning any more and they parted with an agreement to talk more another time.


	7. A Strange Night, A Strange Morning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rhys continues to be perplexed by the Ringmaster's moods and whims as the Circus pull's up stakes and heads on to the next town.

Rhys took advantage of the empty but still pitched Big Top to spend time familiarizing himself with the space and start putting together his performance. They very act of dressing himself in a costume was normally a boost to his mood as he loved performing dearly.

Today it just reminded him of the things he had lost. He dressed himself in slacks and a shirt over his suit, longing for his lost black robe of Chinese silk with the embroidered white cranes and his comfortable slippers. He thought also upon his lovingly tended collection of shoes of which he was down to one well worn pair.

It would turn out that he was not alone in the tent today. Fiona and Sasha were sitting on the first row of the grand stand, towels about their necks. They looked exhausted and sweaty, but Fiona raised a hand and said, “Rhys.”

Sasha offered an amused, “Hello.”

“Fiona, Sasha. Good afternoon.” He wandered over to them before removing his restrictive shirt. He teased them as he glanced up at the safety net that hung under the trapeze. “It’s only worth dying if there’s audience?”

Fiona grinned and said, “If you’re going to go out, only go out in style… in front of screaming women and children.”

Sasha said, “Are we going to get the free show, Rhys?”

Rhys chuckled at that and unfastened his pants. “Yes. I only have a few days to prepare and I’m given to understand we’ll be traveling tomorrow.”  He removed the slacks and folded them carefully, setting them with his shirt on the bench.

Fiona said, “Yup, moving on. We should be driving a couple days.”

Rhys went to find a matt to lay out on the ground, “So what’s your story, ladies?”

Fiona shrugged and replied, “We’ve been performing since we were teenagers with our guardian, Felix. Though he’s retired now.”

“Grow up in the circus, then?” Rhys asked as he dragged the heavy thing along and plopped it down in the center of the ring.

Sasha spoke up to say, “We were on the streets a while… Then the circus... after Felix found us… and adopted us.”

Rhys said, “Sounds rough… though honestly I don’t know what sorts you traveled with, but growing up in the group we wound up with… was on the rough side as well.”

Fiona replied, while crossing one leg casually over the other, “It was… but he taught us to take care of ourselves. How to fight, when needed.”

Rhys grinned at that as he sat on the matt and began to stretch. “My Mama was the same.  She taught me to fight. She would say, “Rhys… don’t ever go starting a fight… but if you’re in one. you finish it.”

Sasha looked at her sister a moment before saying, “Felix told us don’t take any shit from anyone just because we’re girls.” 

“And you don’t look like the sort of girls that do. Tell me… How is the Ringmaster to you? Is he generally… well liked?”

Fiona smirked, “Depends on who you ask… he pays us good. He shouts a lot, but that’s his job.” She shrugged, “He’ll chew your ass out if you’re a screw up… but you probably don’t need to worry.”

Rhys said, “Because I’m sleeping with him?” He went into a handstand then, facing away from them.

Sasha said, presumably to her sister, “You owe me fifty cents.”

Fiona replied, annoyed “Damn it.”

“Classy, ladies.” He carefully moved into the splits with his legs in the air above his head. “Though I wouldn’t be so sure of that meaning anything to him. I intend to work hard as anyone else and I’m sure he’ll grow tired of me soon enough. He seems to fancy women as much as he does me.”

Fiona shrugged, “Who knows. He was with Nisha when we joined up… and since she’s been gone we haven’t seen him with much of anybody.”

Sasha added, “Not that we pay attention to such things.”

Rhys brought his legs back together straight up over his head again before moving them in the opposite position for another split. “Suuuure, you don't.” That done he pushed himself back and got onto his knees. From there he lay his forearms on the ground and vaulted his legs back up into the air. One leg bent at the knee behind him and the other bent forward so that one toe touched the ground in front of his face. The other one soon flexed to join it. He wrapped his arms around his legs and lay them over his feet, with one hand laid atop another and looked up at the girls.

Fiona said, “That will never be not weird, but nice job, Stretch.” She clapped appreciatively.

He maneuvered both feet directly in front of his face, before kicking them out on either side of him and then rolling back until he was seated on the ground. “I hope you don’t think too poorly of me.”

“For What?” Fiona asked, seeming confused.

“Sleeping with the Boss,” Rhys shrugged.  

Both girls laughed and Fiona said, “I don’t think it’s smart exactly, but who cares what you do.”

“Trust me, I am already aware how not smart it is… But here I am… moth to the flame,” Rhys gestured expansively.

Fiona rose and said, “Well… just don’t say you weren’t given the old friendly warning. Enjoy your practice. We’re going to head out, eh, Sasha?”

The younger sister nodded, “Yeah. I need to find August. We’ll see you at dinner, Rhys.”

He waved at them before continuing to go through his routines for a few hours until it all felt very natural to him again.

*    *    *    *    *

It was 11:00 at night before he started to be concerned that Jack had not summoned him. He debated whether it was better to seek Jack out himself, or wait. He desired to do so mostly only to avoid sharing a single bed with his brother, or so he convinced himself.

The thought of sleeping in Jack’s big bed pleased him greatly. The thought of dealing with Jack’s capricious moods did not.  Still, it was altogether more appealing than listening to Vaughn snore, so by approximately midnight he drew himself up and quietly dressed himself.

Part of him thought himself to be a madman doing this, but he drifted out into the night and knocked quietly on handsome Jack’s door.

Jack’s voice was quieter than normal, but still able to be heard through the door. “Who’s there?”

Rhys said softly, “It’s me… Jack, Sir, did you… need anything?” He could hear Jack walking heavily to the door. There was the sound of the tumbler moving in the lock and the door opened.

The Ringmaster opened the door. He was shirtless and wearing just a pair of slacks. A smile spread out on his lips and he reached out and wrapped his fingers around Rhys’ bicep. “Ah, Kitten… aren’t you so sweet. Coming to check on ol’ Jack.” He pulled Rhys inside, closing the door behind them. “And here I thought you’d be angry at me.”

Rhys shrugged, “The customer is always right?” He gave a half hearted laugh and allowed himself to be led.

Jack abruptly leaned down and kissed him hard on the mouth; which sent the contortionist’s heart racing and made his eyes to go very wide. One of the Ringmaster’s huge hands moved to the nape of Rhys’ neck and started stroking the side of it with one large thumb tenderly.

Rhys felt himself melting against the man, tasting the tobacco and whiskey on his breath. He slid his arms around Jack’s broad torso and pulled himself tight. The melding of lips was such an intimate act compared to the rough and hard physicality of their sex that Rhys had not expected to receive it from the man.

Jack’s other hand was at the small of Rhys’ back and slowly worked its way down to grab a handful of his ass.

Jack pulled back from the kiss to look Rhys in the eye, still stroking his’ slender neck, “You did a good job, Rhysie. As far as I can tell, you didn’t even steal from me, so it looks like you get to avoid another whipping.”

Rhys’ eyelids felt heavy as enjoyed the petting. He decided to throw caution to the wind, “Angel helped me clean… I tried not to let her...but she made me,” He said it like a confession.  

Jack moved his hand from the other's neck to press a finger to Rhys’ lips, “Sh sh sh… I know, kitten. It’s alright. She likes you… and I can trust you with her, can’t I?”

Rhys nodded his head, “Of course… I wouldn't dream of harming her in any way… nor allowing anyone else too.”

Jack said, “Then it’s fine.” He bent slightly, grabbed Rhys under his behind and hauled him up into the air. Though he was far from sober, he did not drop the lanky man. He set him down on his desk and stood between his legs before drawing him in for another kiss.

Rhys tilted his head back and let the handsome older man pillage his mouth. It had been so long since he had been kissed like this.  He had quite forgotten how delightfully weak it made him feel to be kissed by a powerful man. There had never been a man quite like Jack. He reached out for Jack's belt and started to unfasten it, but Jack grabbed him by his wrists and parted their lips.

 

Jack's voice had a tightness to it as he muttered, “No, Pumpkin’. Not tonight...”

Enflamed with lust, Rhys felt momentary devastation as he let Jack keep ahold his wrists. “Ohhhh.” He instantly regretted that he let himself sound so completely disappointed.

Jack stood back and patted Rhys’ thigh absently before he smirked, “You like chocolate?”

Rhys squinted, “Is there anyone that doesn’t?” There was something amiss, he just could not put his finger on what it was beyond the fact that the man’s posture seemed rigid. Perhaps he was in pain.

Jack shrugged and stepped around Rhys’ side and opened one of his desk drawers. “I bought you this,” he said as he withdrew a Heath bar and passed it over.

Rhys stared at him with confusion before reaching out to take it from him, “Thank you, Jack,” He looked the man up and down and said, “You hurt your back picking me up, didn’t you?”

Jack’s expression twisted up into something of a scowl before it relaxed, “Yeah… a little bit.”

Rhys offered, his voice barely audible, “Hey… if you lay down I’ll see if I can loosen it up again… and maybe I can fetch you an analgesic?”

Jack grumbled, “I already took something… but yeah... “ He opened the curtain and headed into the back.

Rhys pocketed the gift and slid off the edge of the desk.

Jack unfastened his pants and let them fall.

Rhys was behind him a moment later to slide the man's striped boxers down his legs. “Go ahead and lay down… I’ll get the oil,” he offered.

Jack gritted his teeth and climbed into the bed on his stomach. “Fuck getting old… It’s bullshit.”

Rhys stepped away and fetched the jar of oil and a towel. He brought both of these over to the bed and set them down before he removed Jack’s sock garters and then his socks. “Happens to the best of us... and really, you aren't so old. You're very... vigorous."

“I don’t get it, kiddo.” Jack couldn’t keep the exhaustion or pain from his voice. “You looked like you wanted to claw my eyes out earlier.”

Rhys worked at shedding his own clothing, “You’re a dick, oh great and _Handsome_ Jack… but you helped me when I was desperate… even if it was self serving... and I don’t forget those kinds of things. What I don’t get is why _you_ are being so nice?”

Jack made a soft huffing sound, “You were a good purchase. I’m having a good time.”

Rhys smirked though the man couldn’t see it. He admitted casually, “Well.. I’d probably have fucked you anyway so I may have made off better on this deal.” He climbed onto the bed and unstopped the jar to drizzle some of the oil onto the man’s back. It smelled both minty and floral at the same time.

Jack said, “Maybe. But I have you till Friday night to wring you for all you’re worth.”

Rhys stoppered up the jar and set it aside, chuckling. “I have no doubt of that, anymore.”  He put his hands on Jack’s back, starting to slide the oil over his skin. Once slickened, he rubbed his hands together to warm them with the friction before working his fingers into Jack’s lower back.

The man had fine shoulders and a nicely defined waist despite having a bit of chubbiness to his belly. Rhys admired the muscles of his back and that glorious ass as he rubbed the man down for the second night.

Every once and awhile Jack shifted and arched his back, with quiet groans as Rhys worked at his muscles.

Neither one spoke further. After working on him a good twenty minutes Rhys could hear that the older man had fallen asleep.

Since he already had a slick hand, a towel, and a raging erection, Rhys lay back and decided to treat himself to a bit of what the Church loved to call 'Self Abuse.' It was an absurd name as it caused no damage Rhys could ever determine to drive himself mad with pleasure. He let his mind wander to how it felt when the Ringmaster had kissed him. Mismatched looked over at Jack, watching his naked form as he slept with muscles glistening with oil in the low light. He wrapped one hand around his cock and stroked himself to a speedy orgasm, though he wished it was Jack’s hand claiming him.  

When he had cleaned up he put out the lantern. He slid into bed next to the man, pulled a sheet over them both, and lay on his side to sleep.

*    *    *    *    *

Rhys awoke to the sound of Handsome Jack’s shouting. It wasn’t near, but it was still loud enough to be heard. He listened as he got up out of bed, having to piss terribly. Jack was screaming at the Roustabouts as they got to work tearing down the circus and loading everything onto the trucks.

Most circuses traveled by rail, but Jack’s outfit was small enough to use a parade of trucks. Though he was not entirely sure what he should be doing, he dressed quickly and left Jack’s trailer to relieve himself.

That handled he headed for the Ringmaster for instructions. When he reached him, he was in the middle of barking orders. When he saw Rhys approach him, he tossed him his ring of keys without a word.

Rhys caught them in one hand in one of those motions that would be hard to repeat if he was trying, but somehow worked out of instinct alone.

“Lock up my trailer, Pumpkin… then join your brother in loading up your stuff. When we’re all loaded you’re going to ride up with me in my car,” Jack said the air of absolute authority.

“Alright.” Rhys said, still surprised at catching the keys.

“Move it, Princess… we don’t have all day... “ He turned and roared at the Roustabouts, “Come on, ya overpriced chimps, let’s get this goddamn show on the road!”

*    *    *    *    *

Hours later, when everything was loaded up, Rhys sat in Jack’s relatively new and absurdly bright-yellow Studebaker sedan. The vehicle was a four door model with white stripes painted up towards the top of the engine. The wheel covers were black. It was an outlandish car for an outlandish man. The trucks were all arranged in their order with this yellow bee of an automobile in the lead.

Jack shouted as he walked towards his vehicle, “All right, Assholes! You’ve got your instructions… you got your maps. We stop in Oakton for the night!”

Rhys had assumed Angel would be joining them so when Jack got in alone, he asked, “Where’s Angel?”

“Oh… I’m letting her drive one of the trucks. She never passes up the chance to drive,” He grinned to himself.

“Is that safe?” Rhys enquired, with a small frown.

“Sure, why not? She’s a good driver. She loves doing it too. I put her with Springs. She’ll keep an eye on her.” Jack said as he fired the car up.

Rhys said, “Alright then…”

Jack put the car into gear and started to lead the circus.

Rhys looked out the window, feeling somehow strange being away from his brother up in this fine automobile. There was silence for several minutes as they drove their way down the quiet country road.

“So here’s what’s gonna happen, cupcake…” Jack announced, suddenly full of the sort of mad glee that meant he was surely up to no good.

Rhys tilted his head, “What’s that, Jack?”

“I didn’t get any fun out of you last night, and I’m a little sad about that… but thanks to you I am feeling _much_ better today. You are going to make this long boring drive a lot less boring… you ever sucked a dick in a moving auto, sweetheart? Because you’re gonna.”

Rhys blinked and replied, “That doesn’t… sound safe.”

Jack shrugged and got out a cigarette and passed it to Rhys, “It’ll be fine. I’ve never crashed… Light this for me and pass it back.” He took his silver zippo out of his front shirt pocket and passed it over to Rhys.

Rhys put the cigarette between his lips and shielded the flame from the wind with his hand as he  lit it. The end blazed as he took a puff to make sure it was lit properly before blowing the smoke out the window and passing it back to Jack.  “Just … don’t get us arrested… and finish your cigarette first, because if you burn my hair I will bite your cock off.”  

Jack just grinned his Cheshire cat grin, like he was happiest when he was nudging Rhys ever farther out of his comfort zone. When he was done with his cigarette he tossed it out the window. “Alright, kitten… get your face down here… work it up and set it free.”

“Christ Jesus Almighty,” Rhys said, before laughing at the absurdity of it all. “You are terrible. Completely and utterly terrible.”

Jack winked, “And yet you can’t keep away. I give you a night off and you show up at my door all,” His voice went high pitched, like he was imitating a woman’s voice, “Handsome Jack, Sir, I need it _so_ bad that I’m here in the middle of the night like a horny alley cat.”

Rhys protested, “I _don’t_ sound like that… and that’s _not_ what I said. I thought perhaps your elderly body needed unguents for various… old man… problems.” He petered out at the end, lamely.

Jack squinted at him and said “Hey, you work as hard as I do… sometimes you fuck up your back, punk. Now, unless you want to see how hard this old man can whip your ass tonight, I recommend you get to your job.” He took one hand off the wheel to point at his crotch, helpfully.

“You don’t have to threaten me,” Rhys glared before he leaned forward and started unfastening Jack’s pants for him. He wrapped his fingers around Jack’s semi-erect cock and freed it from his pants and boxers before casually stroking it with his fingers.

Jack mostly kept his eyes on the road ahead, but he smiled a little as Rhys started to touch him.

Though this had bad idea written all over it, Rhys leaned down and wrapped his lips around the tip of his cock while his fingers rested around the base. It was in his best interest to do this well and do it quickly. He swirled his tongue around the tip with tantalizing slowness before relaxing his jaw and enveloping the other man’s hot flesh with his mouth until his lips met his fingers.

Jack patted the back of his head with one hand. “That’s my good boy,” he purred with a honeyed tongue.

Rhys squeezed Jack’s flesh in his hand as he pulled his head back, drawing his wet lips up the shaft before plunging down again all the while hoping beyond hope that no one would see this. It would be merely embarrassing if someone from the troupe saw, though Jack was intentionally keeping a bit of distance at the lead. If anyone else saw, that would be the real nightmare. Rhys had a mortal fear of the police, police stations, and courthouses ever since Vaughn’s juvenile crime spree forced him to come into contact with them. He tried to banish that thought and focus on the task at hand.

Jack, for his part, did not seem to suffer any impairment to his driving ability with the hot, younger man sucking him off expertly. He kept one hand on the wheel and the other hand ruffled and petted Rhys’ hair absently.

After a few minutes of working Jack's cock with his mouth, Rhys took a break from his work to just stroke him with his saliva moistened hand while he worked the numbness out of his jaw.

“You’re doing so good, Princess… don’t stop now.” Jack murmured.

To shut Jack up, Rhys held slid his foreskin down and flicked the sensitive underside of his head with the tip of his tongue, causing Jack to moan urgently. “Damn… kitten, You’re killing me.”

Rhys knew now it was only a matter of time. He again swallowed Jack’s cock down as far as he could, and slid his hand down to caress his heavy sack. His tongue, his lips and every part of his mouth worked at caressing that flesh with wet friction as he bobbed his head up and down over and over again.

Jack’s hand clamped down on the back of his neck and pushed it down as he came into the contortionist’s sweet mouth.

Rhys did not particularly care for this part, but was not in much of a position to do anything other then swallow it down. He may have prayed silently that the man did not crash at this juncture. After a few moments Jack’s hand slackened on his neck and returned to the wheel.

“Nice job, Pumpkin’. You’re the bee's knees. If there was some sort of dick sucking championship. I’d enter you in a heartbeat… and I’m sure you’d bring home a ribbon… which I would tie around my dick before making you suck it again.”

Rhys sat up then and wiped his lips on the back of his hand. “Thanks…” Rhys said without any particular enthusiasm, “I guess.”

“I’ll let you know when I’m ready again,” Jack said with a grin.

It was going to be a very long drive.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feel free to drop me a line at Sinesthero@gmail.com


	8. Moth to the Flame

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> On the morning of their first official performance with the Bartelli Brother's Circus, Handsome Jack sends gifts to the brothers O'Byrne. Gifts from the Ringmaster are seldom simple.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some warnings. There is child abuse mention and a bit of non consensual violence in this chapter. If that sort of thing affects you, maybe sit this one out.

The next four days passed in a flurry of activity for Rhys. Monday and Tuesday were mostly devoted to travel. Wednesday and Thursday were filled with endless practicing, rehearsals, and helping Vaughn prepare for his act. 

It was to Rhys’ amusement that Yvette was also around frequently to assist with the illusionists endeavors. He enjoyed watching the pair of them interact. Vaughn was falling all over himself to be a gentleman and she seemed so amused by him and so genuinely interested in his company that it warmed Rhys’ heart. 

His nights were spent entirely with Jack, usually engaged in some sort of sex quite impossible for a normal person. While he certainly enjoyed the activities, Jack had not made a move to kiss him again since that ill fated night when he threw out his back. Rhys kept his disappointment to himself and made no move to try to initiate such contact.

On the plus side, the older man was in general easier to deal with then he had been the first few days. He was too busy and exhausted by the time he summoned Rhys to do more then ride him hard, receive a sensual massage, and fall asleep. 

Jack did provide him some errands during the day, and Rhys was unsure if these were considered part of the arrangement or just the normal expectations of the job.

Sadly, he did not get the opportunity to speak to Angel other than at the occasional meal as she too was kept busy with chores and work to have the time. 

Friday came and with it a palpable sense of excitement as everyone got ready for the show. After feeding Vaughn’s bunnies for him, Rhys returned to their shared trailer to find Vaughn dressed up to the nines in a brand new suit. 

The black coat had large lapels and a flowing pair of tails. The waistcoat was a dark red with a pattern of black roses just barely accented with gold thread. A crisp white shirt with a high collar was underneath that and about his neck was a silver ascot, pinned with a silver rose pin. His feet were covered in shiny black shoes that gave him a few extra inches of height. 

Rhys said appreciatively, “Wow…You look… incredible Vaughn. Where did that come from?” 

Vaughn’s lips twisted wryly and he said as he pulled on a pair of white gloves, “You don’t know? I assumed you had something to do with it. The Ringmaster sent it with his regards. There’s one for you as well.” He paused a moment and looked lost in thought, “Oh. and there’s a photographer who will be arriving any minute, so head to the Big Top once you’re dressed.” Vaughn took a few moments pose and mug into the mirror, enjoying the magic of getting into his full performance persona. 

Rhys glanced over at his box, saying excitedly, “I was not expecting this at all,” before he looked back to Vaughn and observed, “It’s very old fashioned, isn’t it? But It suits you quite well. Mysterious. Come here… let me fix you.” 

Vaughn groaned audibly and shuffled over to his brother for Rhys’ last minute primping.

Rhys fixed everything he deemed wrong by tugging and smoothing fabric and adjusting buttons and cufflinks. “Stop slouching.”

“You’re a bloody nag. I don’t need your mothering,” his younger brother groused while nonetheless letting Rhys do what he was going to do. “Can I go now?” His annoyance was immediately abandoned in favor of a smile as he added, “I need to see if Yvette is ready. We’re going to get him to take a picture of us together.”  Vaughn grabbed his nice, new top hat and placed it on his head.  

“Sure. I’ll be there in a while.” Rhys smiled and went to open his box as Vaughn disappeared out the door. 

He removed the lid from the box carefully. On top of the pile of clothing was a note. It read:

 

_ Rhysie, _

_ These are for you, Kitten. I want you to wear this for your performance tonight. We’re going to have a hell of a final night. The other suit is a bonus because you’ve been such a peach. _

_ Sincerely, _

__ __ __ __ __ __ __

_ Jack _

 

The suit was gorgeous. It was black and double breasted with six silver buttons standing out on the front. The undershirt was white and the tie was bright yellow like the color of Jack’s Studebaker. Rhys felt a surge of warmth come over him at the pleasure of receiving such a fine gift. He lifted the individual pieces out to examine them with curiosity.

Rhys lifted the pants out and that feeling of pleasure dissipated at the sight of the tiny blue two piece costume he was given for performing in. It was bright blue and sequined, though that part could be dealt with. 

What he couldn’t handle is that the upper piece was a halter top that was shaped like an inverted V to expose the entirety of his stomach and arms. On the sides it went down to several inches above his hips, but the front went to mid way up his chest. 

It was decorated with a string of costume pearls around the neck with an absurdly large, orange bead at the center. It was designed to look like an oval, padparadscha sapphire in a cabochon cut. Another such bead was centered at the bottom front of the garment. 

The shorts were of the same, spangled material and were more revealing than his boxers. Wearing them would expose almost all of his long legs. Another of the gaudy orange stones was set at the front over the fastening, a few inches below his belly button.

The last items in the box were two pair of shoes. One was a well made pair of shining, black leather dress shoes to go with the suit. The other was a pair of taupe performance slippers. 

Rhys felt himself grow angry. Jack was trying to have one more go at him and he would not let it go without at least venting his anger at the man He snatched up the skimpy blue outfit and stormed out of his trailer and over to Jack’s to bang at the door.

“Who is it?” Jack called sounding as unpleasant as ever about being interrupted.

“Rhys.” He replied, keeping his fury tightly controlled, “I need to talk to you. Now.” 

“Come on in, Pumpkin,” Jack said, his voice turning cheerful. 

Rhys threw open the door and slammed it behind himself, holding the outfit up in his fist, “Really? Are you kidding me Jack?” He tossed both pieces down on the desk. 

Jack was sitting behind his desk, though he got to his feet as Rhys stormed in. He was wearing his Ringmaster’s outfit, looking as though he too was ready for the Photographer. “Do I look like I’m kidding?” He paused, “You don’t like it.” He seemed annoyed with Rhys’ reception of the garments. 

“It’s a woman’s costume, Jack… What the hell… I’m not wearing this.” Rhys glared at Jack with his good eye blazing with anger. The other was lifeless as ever. 

“You’re a man, so technically, it's a man’s costume.” Jack said, nonplussed. “Come on, you’ve got a great body Kiddo, what’s wrong with showing it off? Most of the women… and some of the men, are going to love it.” He grinned wickedly, “Besides, it’s the last night of our deal… and need I remind you I get anything I want until Midnight tonight? So I think the words you’re looking for are ‘thank you’. And… Come on… It’s the kind of get up your mother would have worn.”

Rhys was not sure why this, of all the things, upset him so much, but something in him snapped. Before he gave thought to what he was doing he brought his palm up quick to slap Handsome Jack upside his face with his considerable strength. 

Though Jack was either too slow or two unsuspecting to dodge the blow, his large hand reached out and snatched Rhys by the wrist to yank him up closer to him. His olive skin reddened in fury in addition to the red mark on his cheek from being hit. 

Rhys flinched and tried to pull away, sure a punch to the face was coming. Instead, Jack picked up his riding crop from the top of the desk. 

“Get your ass bent over the desk, Rhys.” Jack glared with malice in his odd eyes as he commanded the other man and pulled him roughly to face the desk. “I’ll teach you to bite the  _ hand that feeds you _ , you ungrateful little  _ prick _ .” 

Rhys knew then that he had greatly miscalculated. Actually, that would imply he calculated at all. The simple fact that Jack called him by his actual name chilled him. “Wait, Jack… I’m sorry…” He jerked his arm back as hard as he could and somehow broke free of the man’s grasp. 

“Get over here  _ now _ .” Jack roared, furious at the disobedience. Rhys kept backing up, so Jack switched the crop to his other hand and lashed it wildly and with full force at the younger man. 

The leather bit connected with a hearty smack against the front of Rhys’ thigh and he let loose with a cry of pain before falling backward against the wall. He sank down to the floor and covered his face with his forearms to ward off any blows that might fall there. 

The Ringmaster loomed over him, his breathing hard and fast. 

Rhys waited for the assault to begin in earnest, curling into the smallest ball he could make himself into. He thought about his knife, which he knew Vaughn would scold him for not carrying as he patched him up later. He had no real desire to stab Jack, however, as he was keenly aware that he had initiated this violence. Not that that excused it. 

Jack inhaled deeply and exhaled several times before he threw the crop aside to land somewhere on the rug. He muttered, voice full of resignation, “I’m not … gonna hurt you. I’m sorry...I lost my temper.”

Rhys parted his arms to look up at the man and saw he was holding out one of his hands to help the contortionist up off of the floor. Rhys took it and was pulled up. 

“Just go…” the Ringmaster said when Rhys was standing again, “Wear what you want… do what you want.  Don’t worry about coming by tonight.” With that he turned away and passed behind the curtain, “You’re free of the contract.” 

Rhys reached out and pushed the curtain aside and followed him, “Jack…” 

Jack was standing with his back to him, arms folded. He tensed up as Rhys spoke, tightening the fabric of his finely tailored jacket across his back. 

Rhys said quietly, “I shouldn’t have hit you, either. It was uncalled for. And… I didn’t thank you for the suit… I really did like it… I just...” 

“Do what you need to, Rhys” Jack shrugged as he cut him off. “I told you, you’re released. You can go. You don’t need to be my boy toy tonight.” 

Rhys walked up behind him, cautiously and put out a hand to touch his shoulder, “Are you okay?” 

Jack turned and laughed, mirthlessly. His odd eyes held a haunted look, “What do you even care? You were an inch away from getting the shit beat out of you kid one way or the other, and you’re worried about me? What the hell is wrong with you?”

Rhys felt a powerful need to understand what it was that stopped him. He stood firm and asked, “Why didn’t you?”

Jack laughed, a sound that came from deep within his chest. It had the same coldness as before. His eyes were locked in a thousand yard stare at a point past Rhys’ shoulder, “I remembered what it was like... being on the ground just like that. Mi Ab…” He stopped himself and restarted, “My Grandmother raised me… Not that she wanted to. She was a real piece of work… bitch drowned my pet cat because I lipped off at her… or something… don’t really remember why. That old cunt… Always told myself I wouldn’t be like her.” His arms dropped to his sides. 

Rhys put his arms around the other man and leaned in close to kiss his cheek where he slapped him earlier, unsure of what to even say in reply to that.

Jack put his arms around Rhys in turn, seeming to shake off the vortex of the past. His expression was full of bemusement. 

Rhys said,  “I’m sorry I hit you. I thought you were making fun of me… I… I don’t like to talk about my Mother… not even with my brother. Hell… I  _ like _ you, Jack… I just… want you to treat me like a person and not just some… thing.” 

Jack frowned a little, “I thought you’d look good in that get up… and I wanted to make sure… that next time you go makin' some sort of stupid fucking bargain you at least think about what you’re getting yourself into before you do it. I could have put you through some real hell, Rhysie boy.”

Rhys scoffed, “Well I’ll be taking that lesson to my God damned grave... Jack.” He paused, “I’ll wear the outfit… It was the deal... and I really… really do love the other suit. It’s gorgeous… and you didn’t have to do that. I’ve… not seen my brother so happy in a long time… Thank you.” 

Jack pulled back a little to look Rhys in the eye, focusing specifically on the seeing one, “Will you let me take you out to dinner on Sunday in it?”

Rhys smiled and looked down, before looking up again, “Yeah… yeah I’d like that.” 

Jack leaned in close and pressed his lips against Rhys’ in a surprisingly gentle kiss, at least until he bit the corner of Rhys’ lip. “Take off your pants, Kitten. Let me see that leg.”

Rhys unfastened his pants without question and pushed them down to drop to the floor.

Jack pointed to the bed. “Sit.” 

Rhys sat down, his eyes going to the livid red mark on his leg that was sure to become a bruise in time.

Jack carefully went down on his knees on the floor. Leaning forward, he pressed his lips to the crop mark. Rhys could feel the wetness of the tip of the man's tongue as he licked over the fiercely stinging mark. Once it was good and wet, he pursed his lips and blew gently to cool the burn.

Rhys sighed softly at the attention, his eyes half closing.

When Jack was finished he slid his thick fingers into the waistband of Rhys’ boxers and carefully worked them down.

Rhys put his hands on the bed and used them to push his hips up to help get rid of the underwear. He was unfathomably hard in spite of the hurricane of emotions he had been through since coming here this morning.

Jack pushed Rhys’ legs apart once he had tossed the boxers aside and maneuvered himself between the thinner mans legs. One of his hands reached out to grasp Rhys’ circumcised cock as he bent his head to take it into his mouth. 

Rhys rolled his shoulders and tipped his head back as this by turns brutal and gentle man started to pleasure him. There was no doubt in the younger man's mind that this was a first for Jack. He was not nearly so expert with lips and tongue than he was with his hips and cock. Rhys appreciated the gesture all the more for it.

Rhys stared down, watching his dick being worshipped by the circus Ringmaster in full regalia.

He reached one hand out to stroke the man’s hair while muttering, “Oh… god… thank you… Oh that’s… yes!”  

What Jack lacked in finesse he made up for in enthusiasm. His large hands gripped Rhys thighs hard as he swallowed him.

When finally Rhys came into Jack's mouth he could hear the man gag, which made him snicker even during the throes of pleasure. 

Jack almost immediately got to his feet and disappeared from the room. Rhys could hear him spitting before making a horrified sound and pouring himself something which he apparently used as mouthwash because he spit that out as well.

Rhys followed after a moment to see Jack standing by his desk with two monogrammed whiskey tumblers on top of his desk. One had a few shots of whiskey in it and the other had everything he had thus far spit out. 

Rhys grinned as he enquired, “First time?” One of his brows was quirked up in an an devilish fashion.

Jack looked over at him with a smirk, “Yeah. That make you feel special, Princess?” 

“Ohhhhhh yes. I have Christened the mouth of the great and powerful Handsome Jack.” Rhys smirked as he stepped forward to kiss Jack on the mouth.

Jack kissed him back, sliding his tongue between Rhys’ lips. When they parted, he said, “Don't mind tasting yourself, eh, Kitten? You really are filthy.”

Rhys threw his head back and laughed hard as a realization dawned on him. “I suppose I forgot to show you my best trick.” He put his hands on his hips and declared with hubris, “I can suck myself off, if I so please. I’m told it's quite a show.”

Jack grinned nearly ear to ear. “Will you show me…if you still want to come by tonight? Because I can not believe you’ve been holding out on me with this.”

Rhys nodded, “If we're back on… then I would love to.” He picked up the outfit from the desk and started to slide on the shorts.

Jack shrugged, “If you want to. You don’t have to. You also don’t have to wear that… but I think it’s going to look incredible.” 

Rhys smiled at that and started unbuttoning his shirt. “Let’s find out.” In a few moments he had the top on and held out his arms, “What do you think?” 

Jack looked him over, hunger in his eyes, “Damn, Rhysie boy. I think you look great… go check the mirror. Makes that collection of tattoos you got going on look fucking amazing.” 

Rhys stepped back behind the curtain and walked in front of the mirror to examine himself. He made a few adjustments, tugging here and there before striking a pose. 

Jack followed to watch, leaning back against the wall.

Rhys admired himself, “It’s… not… terrible… I mean, I am incredibly good looking no matter what I’m wearing.” He turned around to admire the way the sequined shorts hugged his ass so perfectly. “That’s… good… hmmm. Alright… I’ll wear it tonight and see how it goes.”

Jack winked, “You’re going to knock em’ dead.” 

Rhys looked over and asked, “Hey… do you have a robe I can borrow?” 

Jack nodded, “oh yeah, sure do... “ He opened one of his drawers to pull out a yellow robe. “Here you go…” 

Rhys reached out and took it from him, “Thanks.” He raised the other hand and stroked Jack’s cheek where he had hit him.      

“No problem. The photographer is probably here by now. You ready?” Jack asked as he pulled his face away from the touch.  

Rhys slid on the robe and tied it closed, “I need to go grab the slippers… and finish getting ready. I’ll meet you there in a few.” He turned to leave.

“Hey… Rhys.” Jack said with a frown. 

Rhys froze in place a moment before turning back, “Yeah?”

Jack gestured out with one hand vaguely, “I’m not gonna have a lot of chance to talk to you until after the show… So break a leg, tonight kiddo. You’re going to be fantastic… and… you’re a pretty swell guy.” Jack held up his fingers as though they were a gun and shot Rhys with a little bullet sound effect he made with his mouth. 

Rhys covered his heart and closed his unnatural blue eye, “You got me. I’ll see you later.” 


	9. Performance and Anxiety

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Brothers O'Byrne complete their first performance with the circus.

It was a hot Friday night in July. The air outside the big top hummed with insects, but that sound competed with the noise of the band of musicians who played lively circus music.

Being the newest members of the troupe, it was Rhys and Vaughn’s lot to take the first two slots of the performance. Vaughn deferred to his elder brother as he always did and went first.

Rhys felt like he could die from excitement and anxiety as they waited out back behind the tent. It had been so long since he had performed and something inside of him needed it like he needed air to breathe.

The Ringmaster’s loud voice boomed welcoming, “Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, children of all ages.”  

Rhys wished it were just his anxiety that made his knees weak but something about that infernal man’s voice was the real culprit.

Vaughn did not seem remotely anxious. He was in full character with sleeves full of tricks and a dark glint in his eyes.

Rhys knew his own anxiety was somewhat infectious with his brother so he kept a façade of his own calm as he watched him head out to do his act. There was no real reason to be worried. Vaughn was a talented professional who made the toughest of tricks seem effortless through an obsession with perfection and hard work.

To Rhys’ delight it sounded like he went over fabulously and when he returned to the staging area Rhys shook his hand firmly, “Sounds like you killed, little Brother. Good job.”

Vaughn shook his hand and said, “Go get em.”

Rhys grinned, feeling the anxiety slip away, “I’ve _got_ this.”

The contortionist did not really hear the words of the Ringmaster’s introduction for him. He heard his voice, but there was no way he could focus on it. He strode into the tent and on his cue ran into the ring, did a cartwheel and vaulted himself onto the raised dais for his poses. He was too distracted with working to focus on the fact that he was performing in skimpy clothing and bore a large bruise on the front of his leg. That did not matter now.  

Rhys went through his poses just as he had practiced them countless times. The roar of the crowd at some of his more shocking movements was the greatest high he would ever find in life. He was never happier, or more distracted from the things that haunted him then when he was out in front of so many people performing. To cap off his performance, he  bowed and did a backflip off of the dais.

Like any high, it was short lived and soon he was back in the staging area and into the arms of his brother for a tight embrace while the Ringmaster belted out his introduction for Athena the Blade Mistress.

Rhys clapped Vaughn on the back said, “I feel brought to life again. This was just what I needed.”

Vaughn smiled a tight little smile and nonetheless said very encouragingly, “It sounds like you were amazing.”

Rhys could see plainly that Vaughn was looking at the front of his thigh and so he moved away to snatch up Jack’s yellow robe. “Thank you.” He slid it on and cinched it up tight to cover himself better and obscure the mark. “I was.”

Amidst the chaos the Ringmaster appeared and made a beeline for Rhys. He threw his arms open wide and said with wild glee, “There’s my boy! There’s my _special_ boy! Oh Jesus Christ, Kitten, that was _incredible_ . They loved it. These idiots _loved_ it.” He laughed his madman’s laugh.

Vaughn took a single side step away from Rhys as Jack drew near and focused his attention elsewhere.

Rhys gaped at the man as spoke to him like that in front of so many people. “Ah… Thank you, Jack.”

It was then that Jack wrapped an arm around him and kissed him hard on the mouth. He sucked hard on Rhys’ lips, pulling the bottom one into his mouth so he could rake it with his teeth while he quite openly pushed his groin against his partner’s. One of those large hands of his was pawing at the under curve of Rhys’ ass.

It was only circus personnel permitted back here but Rhys could scarcely believe that Jack would be so openly affectionate. Before he could allow himself to get to into the kiss, it was over and Jack was stepping back.

“I gotta go… but I wanted to tell you that you’re officially hired on.” Jack then turned his gaze on Vaughn, “You too, Munchkin, nice work. You’ve got the old razzle dazzle far more than I expected.”

Vaughn smiled, pleasantly enough though he was reserved, “Thank you kindly, Handsome Jack, Sir.”

Jack replied with a finger gun and a click of his tongue that Vaughn did not look like he understood what he was supposed with.

Rhys puffed up a little with pride, pleased that his little brother found favor with their employer.

Jack patted Rhys on his ass gently, before abruptly jamming his finger in the cleft between Rhys’ spangled ass cheeks, which made the contortionist jump. “I’ll see _you_ later.”

Rhys blushed and waved him off, “I’ll be… around…”

With that the Ringmaster was gone again.

Rhys tried to stop Vaughn from commenting by saying, “Don’t you even…” once Jack had gone from sight.

Vaughn merely sighed and started pulling off his white gloves, “You are not going to stop seeing him, are you?”

Rhys tilted his head back to look up at the evening sky, “I wish I could say the answer to that was the one you wanted to hear… but… no I am not. He’s taking me out to dinner on Sunday.”

Vaughn raised a brow, “Non… transactionally?”

Rhys grinned slyly at the phrasing, “Non transactionally.”

Vaughn took him by his elbow, “Come on… Let’s go get changed…” His lips went tight and Rhys decided to avoid the topic further.

*    *    *    *    *

Rhys returned to the area behind the big top in time to see Angel standing by with her majestic but poorly named stallion and one of the horse grooms. She motioned him over with a crook of her finger and called. “Rhys… Come here.”

Angel patted the large, white stallion’s neck fondly with her delicate seeming hands and kissed him on the neck before she allowed the groom to lead the him away. The expression on the pretty young woman’s face was tight with annoyance as she told him, “My father said to tell you… whenever you want tonight, Scooter will let you into his trailer... So you gentlemen can continue to make me regret not becoming a nun.”

Rhys struggled to find words, “Well that’s… not… at all… a comfortable topic.” Rhys reached up a hand to rub the back of his neck while he slowly drowned in mortification. He was glad to be already flushed from the heat or it would make the actual blushing so much more obvious.

Angel retorted while giving him a dead eyed stare, “No, the discomfort is _all_ mine, I assure you. You need to help me, Rhys. By the time we get to the next town… you _need_ to convince him to let me move my trailer as far away from him as humanly possible while still being in the same circus… because if I have to hear you call my father ‘ _daddy’_ one more time, I’m going to cover myself in meat and climb in with Vallory’s tigers.”

Rhys lifted his hand to cover his mouth but wound up finding it more satisfying to ball up his hand and bite his thumb hard. When he could find words again he spoke in a volume suitable to a funeral parlor, “I thought I _was_ being quieter.”

Angel looked at him the same way Jack did on occasion, when he was questioning Rhys’ fundamental level of intelligence. Her head shook to indicate his failure, “No, Rhys. Can you please try?”

Rhys seemed worried by the question, “Well... I don’t know if I’m _capable_ if what I’ve been trying so far hasn’t worked...”

Angel sounded exasperated, “Not about being quieter! About letting me move!”

Rhys’ mouth formed a large o and he sputtered, “oh! Yes… definitely… I’ll do it… but I think  you overestimate my influence.”

“You’re the only person that can even try to talk to him for me…” Her face took on a thoughtful expression before she said, “No. It’s not fair of me to ask you this Never mind… I saw that mark on your leg earlier.”

Rhys drawled out his response sarcastically to alleviate his own embarrassment, “You have eyes, nice work. And _two_ of them. I only have the one.” He dropped the sass from his tone when he saw the look of distress come over her kind face. “Hey… I hit him first… He was being very nice, mostly, and I got angry... He doesn’t…” He frowned, “Hurt you, right?”

Angel’s head shook, “Never. I know he’s not… a nice man, but he cares about me. Please forget I asked you anything, I don’t want to get you in any trouble.”

Rhys shook his head and gave her an easy smile, “I’m not going to get into any trouble. I lashed out at him, he lashed back. We made up. I’ll do what I can to get him to let you move, but I can’t promise anything.”

“If you are certain. Thank you, Rhys.” She said as she suddenly leapt forward into his arms and squeezed him with more strength than he expected. “Because if he doesn’t let up soon… he’s going to drive me mad.”

“We don’t want any madness,” He smiled. Though he no longer feared physical contact with the girl, he could see some dark looks in his direction from the Roustabouts. He ended the hug as quickly as he could. “Well… I should go assist with the show… find where I’m needed…”

Angel shook her head, “No. You and your brother are done for the night. It’s kind of a tradition… because I insist on it being one. But I have chores that need doing... so I’ll see you later.”

Rhys waved to her and said, “Alright… then. I’ll see you later…then… I guess…”

If freedom from work for the rest of the night was his lot then Rhys was going to head back to his trailer and freshen up further. Sex, after all, was a performance in its own way and all performances required looking one’s best.

When he returned to their humble, wheeled abode, Vaughn was still there. The illusionist was sitting with one leg crossed over the other putting a shoe back on. “You’re back quickly,” he noted.

Rhys closed the door and said, “We’re done for the night. No need for you to go back. Angel said we’re to relax.” He smirked and said, “So i’m going to Jack’s trailer.”

“Good,” Vaughn said with a high and airy tone. It was the sort he used when he wanted to convey his displeasure without overt hostility. “Because I am in the middle of a story and you have not learned in all our years not to talk to me when I’m trying to read.” He rose to go pick up the magazine he left out on the desk. “But if you come back tonight you most likely won’t find me in.”

Rhys nodded agreeably, “Yes, yes, me either, in all likelihood. Just give me a few minutes and I’ll be out of your hair.” Rhys spoke back with the same tone, only perhaps with a small twinge of added mockery thrown in.

Vaughn settled back into the comfortable chair and carefully opened the magazine, “Take your time. I’m not going to attempt reading until you’re gone.”

“Is that one of Yvette’s pulps?” Rhys asked as he slipped into the bedroom. If he could keep his brother occupied with other conversation he could get ready and slip out before any actual conversation could happen.

“Indeed it is,” Vaughn replied, “She has this thing for this obscure little author by the name  H. P. Lovecraft. He writes these delightfully terrifying stories of madness inducing dark cosmic forces that threaten to snuff out mankind.”

Rhys surveyed his sad wardrobe for what he might wear to look decent, “That sounds incredibly cheerful. I hate to even say this… because I know you don’t approve of Jack, but Yvette seems good for you. Cut from the same strange cloth.”

Vaughn’s passive aggressiveness when from airy to grim, “My approval or disapproval of what you do has never stopped you and never will, my brother. Even Rockford didn’t stop you.”

Rhys froze in place. The vicious tendrils of anxiety spread up his spine, chilling him, “We’re not talking about Rockford.”

Vaughn’s voice was slipping into downright aggressiveness. “You don’t like talking about a lot of things Rhys, that’s your problem. Everything is always about Rhys. Rhys doesn’t want to talk about it so we tiptoe around it and pretend it didn’t happen.”

“Oh Ho Ho!” Rhys’ anxiety was only overridden by his anger. He said cruelly, “ Is this going to be one of those ‘Vaughn speaks up about how he really feels’ moments? Like he thinks his opinions matter?” Rhys said dismissively, “Because I’m not in the mood, little brother.”    

Rhys knew he was in trouble as soon as he heard Vaughn get up and throw the magazine down.

“You’re never in the mood, damnit!” The curtain was thrown open and Vaughn stormed in, “I think it's high time we finally talked about it.”

Rhys shook his head, trying to shut this down before it could get going, “No… no we’re not.” He didn’t want to resort to pulling rank, but he felt he was left with no choice,  “You really need to _mind_ me on this, Vaughn Pat...”

“The _hell_ .” Vaughn pushed him back against the wall, hard enough to rock the structure just slightly. “I’m done _minding_ you, Rhys. And I’m done not talking about what _you_ made me do.”

Rhys’ face became an ugly sneer as he brought his hands up to try to stop Vaughn from anything else he might be up to. “Well I’m sorry that guy was trying to strangle me, Vaughn. Soooooooo sorry.”

“You should be!” Vaughn’s voice rose as well, “I told you. I told you not to go with that guy. I _begged_ you.”

Rhys looked away, his teeth gritting together. If he just didn’t talk, which was his usual tactic on the rare occasions this came up, Vaughn would eventually give up and apologize like he had before.

The illusionist was not about to let him off the hook, “Don’t you look away from me. You _owe_ me. You owe me your very life! Would you rather I hadn’t been there? Would you rather have been strangled to death?“ Vaughn’s voice went very quiet, “I killed that man for you… his blood on my goddamn hands. I didn’t want to be a killer, Rhys. I just wanted to be a fucking illusionist but I stabbed that man to death… and I did it for you!”

Rhys balled his fists up and growled out, “Why does this matter now? Why do we have to talk about this now?”

Vaughn said while pointing in the general direction of the big top, “Because Handsome Jack is dangerous, Rhys!  Are you stupid? Have you paid _no_ attention to _anything_ since we’ve been here beyond getting your wick dipped?” 

Rhys folded his arms, his nails digging into his own flesh to try to stop the torrent of emotions swirling under the surface of his mind, “What are you talking about.”

“Vasquez, you asshole.” Vaughn threw up his hands in despair of his brother’s simple mind, “He’s ‘gone’ and ‘by the way Jack will break your neck if you touch his daughter.’”

Rhys’ lips parted and his brows lifted as he finally grasped the point his brother was making, “I… Do you really think?”

Vaughn ranted in exasperation, “Of course I think Rhys! Maybe you should try it for once! Saints preserve me you’re an idiot. What if i’m not here to save you this time? What if this time I find your naked lifeless body on the floor… how do you think I would I feel? It’s one thing to not give a damn for your own life, but will you have an ounce of consideration for me? I committed a mortal sin, brother, and you’ve never even acted like it meant _anything_ to you.”

Rhys covered his mouth with his hand for a moment before dropping it, “No… brother… no… I… I didn’t… of course it meant a lot to me.”

“Then _act_ like it.” Vaughn shot back, “Care about yourself a little. Please try and be careful.”

Rhys stepped forward and threw his arms around his brother and pulled him tight to his chest, “I will, Vaughn… I’m so sorry…. I’ve always appreciated what you did. But what happened… just thinking about it… it makes me think of Mother… and I… I…. I…”

Vaughn said gently as he slid his hands up Rhys’ back to try to calm him down, “Shhh shhhh, I know… you don’t have to talk about Mother. You don’t need to talk about any of that now.”

Rhys refused to cry, even if it meant having to give Vaughn a crushing hug to channel that energy elsewhere.

Vaughn held him back tightly and patted his back reassuringly.

Rhys managed to hold in the weight of all the things he regularly avoided thinking about. With a tremulousness to his voice he said, “I love you, brother. More than anything or anyone. I’ll take your words to heart… and I never meant… to make you feel like it meant nothing to me… I know… what I took from you. It matters to me.”

Vaughn sighed and looked up at Rhys’ solitary brown eye, “I would do it again… without the slightest moment of hesitation,  you know it. I just don’t want to have to. I just want you safe… but I’m not going to… tell you what to do. Just… don’t ignore my concerns. This whole business with the Ringmaster this week was bad enough, do you _really_ want to keep seeing him?”

Rhys stepped away and said, “I don’t know… I mean… He’s.” He stopped sputtering and said quietly, “ I do. I mean, even if he did kill this guy, if he did it to protect his daughter, then that’s… not out of code, is it? Our whole troupe helped hide the death of that bastard who tried to choke me.”

Vaughn sighed and looked dreadfully weary, “I don’t know Rhys. I suppose not. I don’t know. I can’t get Yvette to confirm anything.” His head shook before he said, “But I feel better that I at least can talk to you about this. I don’t want to do this thing we do anymore Rhys… what happened haunts me sometimes too… and who else can I talk to about it if not my brother?”

Rhys put an arm down around Vaughn’s shoulders, “I know… and I’m sorry.” The nearly full fledged levels of panic returned but he nonetheless offered, “Do… you want to talk about it?”

Vaughn shrugged, “We just… kind of did…” He seemed morose and dissatisfied, “Please just be armed… be prepared. In case… something happens.”

Rhys looked at a spot on the carpet, “I promise I will. I’ll be careful.”

“That’s all I want… I’ll… leave you to it.” He gave Rhys’ arm a final pat and started  back out to the front.

“Brother… wait.” Rhys moved to the bed and sat down on it, his eyes on the floor. He could not leave things like this.

Vaughn came back through and looked at him, “What is it?”

Rhys hunched forward and kept staring at floor. Though his heart was beating so loud it felt like it was in his ears he said, “I’ve been so selfish to refuse you this long. To… avoid talking about things that are… important. I also know I’ve been a tyrant towards you… and I am sorry... but do you understand why?”

“Of course,” the shorter man’s voice was all full of gentleness now, “We’re family and we both want the best for each other… and… not speaking ill of the dead,” He made the sign of the cross, “But, Mama, bless her soul, went entirely overboard with forcing you to be the man of the house when you were just a boy yourself. You're only two years older than I but she made you act like my parent.“ Vaughn crossed to the bed and settled onto it.

Rhys nodded, still not able to look up, “She  did. She put… so much on me. How could I not help her? And when she died… you were all I had left. I felt I had to protect you.”

Vaughn gently reminded, “I was grown when she died. I need you to be my brother, not my parent. That’s what I’ve always wanted… and I think I deserve that. I’ve damn well saved you as much as you have me. I killed a man for you. You… fucked a Judge for me… not that I’m ungrateful, but I never asked for it.”

Rhys sat up straighter eyes widening in shock, “Who told you?” Then, as though to make the point of how big his sacrifice was he added, “He was… really vile…”

Vaughn put up a hand, “I’m not ungrateful... but you don't know how wretched I’ve felt to know that my actions caused that.”

“You weren’t meant to know,” Rhys groaned softly, glancing down at his hands which were sitting uselessly in his lap.

“Well I do… I always overheard things... and I’ve been feeling like a bastard for nine years over that… and then… Rockford… now this… you’ve put it on me again. And God himself knows I love you brother but there’s only so much I can take. So I need you to promise me that this is the last time. Whore all your wicked little heart desires but don’t… do it for me. Leave me to sink or swim as I can on my own. You’re not responsible for me.”

Rhys looked up and dared to look Vaughn in his eyes, “I swear I’m done making… unilateral decisions for us. And I promise I’ll be careful… and I'll take your concerns seriously.”

Vaughn smiled and put an arm around him, “Thank you, for listening. Alright… go on… get ready for your big date with the guy who apparently beats you with a riding crop for fun.”

Rhys retorted, “He knows how to show a guy a good time, what can I say?”

“I have no response for that.” Vaughn shook his head and gave his brother a soft kiss on the cheek before he drifted back out into the main room.


	10. Inherent Violence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rhys and Jack celebrate his successful debut with the circus.

In the end, Rhys decided that he would wear that small, sequined costume and Jack’s comfortable robe for their meeting. Fiona and Sasha had ever so kindly shared some of their cosmetics with him for the performance, so he made sure to touch up his subtle blue eye makeup and reapply rogue to his cheeks. A few dabs more of his pomade were used to slick all his glossy hair back just so, except for a few deliberate strands.

He untied the robe and solemnly opened one of his designated drawers in their built in dresser. With still so little to his name, it did not take Rhys long to find what he was looking for. The silver handle of the folding knife was in dire need of a polish, but still had an eye catching art deco design.

With a long-fingered hand he removed the knife from a top a threadbare undershirt and opened up the four inch blade to observe it. The blade glinted coldly in the light of the oil lamp. With gritted teeth the folded it quickly and slid it down in between the tight shorts and his bare skin at his hip.

Rhys gave himself a critical stare down in the mirror before tying the robe back up again for a final time. He slid his feet into his shoes without socks and stepped out into the front of the trailer.

Vaughn was quiet and reading from his magazine, with both legs thrown up over one arm of the chair as he huddled against the corner of the wingback. Rhys came to stand in front of the chair before he reached out a hand and took one of Vaughn’s into his.

Vaughn looked up, quietly, laying the magazine down on his legs and let Rhys take his hand without protest.  

Rhys took the hand and placed it on the metal bulge on his hip. An unsure smile was on his lips and in his eyes was a look that plead for understanding.

Vaughn ran his fingers over the shape of the knife and nodded silently, but he kept a grip on Rhys’ hand a moment. “Don’t put up with poor treatment, Rhys… just because you’re so lonely.”

Rhys pursed his lips, still deeply uncomfortable with Vaughn’s newfound freedom of speech. Gracefully, he lowered himself down to one knee and then the other to put his arms around his brother and rest his head momentarily against his side. “I won’t,” he promised softly.

Vaughn smoothed a hand over Rhys’ hair, careful not to mess it up. “I didn’t mean to ruin your night. I do want us to be happy here.”

His head shook in response, “You didn’t. I was being a jerk. I really do like Yvette… and I really do think she’s good for you. I meant that. I know you've been lonesome too.”

“I appreciate it… I don’t know how things will go. I hardly have anything to offer a girl like that, but… she’s excellent company of a kind of been sorely missing.” Vaughn squinted his pale blue eyes and asked, “Are you waiting for my blessing or something?”

Rhys sat back on his heels, “Yes… I suppose I am. I just don’t want you to be angry with me. I can’t be happy when we’re fighting, and I’m feeling a bit like a monster.”

Vaughn blew out a breath, “Pffffffft. You’re not a monster. History is riddled with tyrannical elder siblings. You aren’t by far the worst. Go have a nice night.” He added with a grin, “So I can finish this story while I am still young.”

Rhys braced his hands on the arms of the chair and pushed up. “Good night.” He patted Vaughn on the top of his head before turning away. Vaughn responded by swinging a leg over to kick his brother in the ass with his unshod foot.

Rhys made his way to Handsome Jack’s trailer. The Studebaker was parked out behind it with the engine compartment opened while Scooter stood doing whatever it was mechanics did with the machines. Rhys cared little to understand the inner workings of the monsters. As long as they delivered him from one location to another it was all well and fine if they were someone else’s problem.

“Hey there, Stretch. Just give me a few minutes and I’ll let you in there.” The mechanic gave Rhys a wave before hunching back down.

Rhys accepted the nickname in spite of not being thrillingly fond of it, “Something wrong with the auto?” he enquired, mostly just in the service of being friendly.

“Naw, Just tunin’ her up for the boss. She’s real pretty, isn’t she?” Scooter was looking at the car like one might a woman.

Rhys said agreeably, “She is certainly… a car.” They did not have much in common but Rhys was fond of the friendly mechanic. He could tell that many of the roustabouts disliked him, though he was not sure if it was a matter of his orientation or that he was sleeping with the boss in particular. Scooter, however, was always helpful and sweet.

“She is at that…” Scooter said fondly. He reached for the rag at his belt and gave his grease covered hands a rough wipe down. “Let me get the lights on for you… don’t want you fallin’ in the dark and busting yourself up something awful.”

Rhys assured, “I’m sure I can take care of it.”

Scooter shook his head, “No. I got it for you.” He headed up to the trailer and unlocked the door. Before he headed into the gloom he lit his lighter. Soon the room was awash in the light of the oil lanterns.

Scooter stepped out of the trailer then, a look of surprise on his face, “Well … dang. You go on and have yourself a good evening, there.” He chuckled and moved to  resume whatever he was up to at the vehicle.

“Thank you... You have yourself a nice night as well when you’re able to get some rest.” When he stepped into the trailer he could see why Scooter was so amused. The desk had a bouquet of artfully arranged flowers on it in a simple glass vase. There was a bottle of wine with two waiting wine glasses nearby.  Additionally, there was a bowl of ripe, red strawberries and an assortment of small, square chocolates. In front of all of that was white envelope.

Rhys pulled the door closed and drifted through to pick up the envelope with his name written in the Ringmaster’s best script handwriting. He pulled the knife out to use the end to slit open the envelope before folding it and sliding it into the robe’s pocket.

The letter was withdrawn from the envelope and unfolded. To his surprise three ten dollar bills fluttered out of the page and onto the desk. He held up the letter and read it.

_Rhysie,_

_Relax and have some refreshments. I’ll be in to join you as soon as I can. I’ve included a little bonus for you._

_Sincerely,_

_Jack_

Rhys held the letter to his chest and shuddered with delight. He wanted to to shout in joy but he managed to keep it in. The letter and money were stuffed into his pocket with the knife and he went to go stash them in the back bedroom before returning to the main room to pour himself a glass of wine.

He took a swallow of the wine and went to open up the windows to let in some breeze to the stuffy room. That accomplished, he settled at the chair behind the desk and helped himself to some chocolate and strawberries.

Rhys wound up waiting there another good hour before Jack returned to his trailer. Through strength of will he avoided drinking more than a single glass of the very pleasant red wine. Though pleased at the treats Jack had set out for him, he could not stop thinking about the things Vaughn had said.

Jack was holding his hat carefully under one arm when he unlocked the trailer and opened the door. He came through and locked it again once inside. His smile was  lopsided, “Heeeey there he is. Still wearing the outfit too… I didn’t even have to ask.”

Rhys smiled faintly, “You didn’t have to do all this Jack.” He rose from Jack’s seat and leaned against the desk, “You maybe shouldn’t be so free with your money.”

Jack chuckled at the very thought, “It’s not for you to worry about my money, Kitten. I’m not hurting for cash. “I've  got something else for you …” His large hand smacked Rhys’ behind as he moved past him into the bedroom. When he reemerged he was holding a long, black satin robe. He pressed it into Rhys’ hands.

Rhys took hold of the robe and lightly caressed the fabric. “Jack… what is all this?”

Jack seemed confused, then annoyed, “What does it look like? It’s a robe. It's actually another of mine, but you can keep it. I want the other one back. Has no one ever given Little Orphan Rhysie a present?”

Rhys frowned a little, “I’ve gotten presents… I mean… what do you want from me? Does this… extend my contract? Don’t make me laugh by insinuating that I’m your beau now.”

Jack shook his head, his eyes narrowing and taking on a nasty look, “What the hell crawled up your ass and died, _Princess_?”

“Just forget I said anything... “ He set the robe aside and went to pour Jack a glass of wine and himself a long awaited second one.

Jack grumbled, “They’re gifts, jackass, because I hate to see such a hot piece looking like such a sad little ragamuffin.”

Rhys said, “Thank you. You’re very kind.” His voice was colder then he wanted it to be. He moved away and sat on the built in bench and sipped his wine.

Jack shook his head and went in the back with his glass. After a few minutes he returned without his hat and overcoat. When he spoke up he sounded closed off and sarcastic, “Well, this is fun. Awkward silence and quiet drinking. You don’t want to be here, you know where the door is. But this hot and cold action is crap.”

Rhys glared up at him, “I want to be here, Jack It’s… been a long week. I’m tired.”

Jack sat down next to him and put a possessive arm around his back, “So rest. I told you you were free. You insisted you still wanted to come. Do what you want. If you want to go to sleep I don’t care. Go to sleep.”

Rhys drained the wine from his glass and set the glass on the arm of the bench. He leaned against Jack and said, much more sincerely, “Thank you for everything. I’m sorry, I just… I have things on my mind.”

“Is stabbing me one of them? Because, I confiscated your knife.” Jack removed the silver knife from his waistcoat pocket and slid it into Rhys’ hand.

Rhys blinked and sat up, “No… I had a fight with my brother. I got… pretty messed up by a John… few years back. He worries about me. I promised him I’d be careful.”

Jack’s intense eyes looked deep into his, “Do you think I’m dangerous?”  

Rhys quietly admitted, “Yes. I think you’re… capable of incredible violence.”

Jack settled back and took a sip from his glass of wine.  ”I am… and I think that turns you on, Kiddo. You like a man that scares you a little.”

Rhys closed his eyes and admitted,  “I have a type. It hasn’t served me well, but you need to know I’m no man’s punching bag. I won’t put up with ill treatment if we continue to see each other.”

Jack shrugged, “Violence was an everyday occurrence for me for a lot of my youth, Kiddo. I do what I have to do. And I take care of the people that mean something to me. I told you I’m not going to hurt you… unless you’re in the mood for that… and I meant it.”

“Did you kill Vasquez?” Rhys chanced, his knife still tucked right into his hand.

Jack shifted and straightened as he looked Rhys dead on and said, “You sure you want the answer to that?”

“I want the truth,” Rhys insisted, watching him carefully.

Jack lifted his chin and looked at the other man through slitted eyes. Though his tone was grim his delivery was flippant as he affirmed, “Yeah, I killed him. Son of a bitch had it coming. That cretin,” he spat the word out, his voice growing more vicious as he carried on, “tried to blackmail _my_ Angel into sleeping with him. And then the dumb piece of _shit_ had the nerve to put his hands on her when she wouldn’t give in. Not going to lie to you, Rhysie, I got carried away.” His eyes widened considerably and he leaned closer to Rhys, “I got… _real_ carried away.” There was a pause as he raised a finger to forestall any interruption of his monologue. “But you tell me… if someone tried to hurt your little brother. Tell me you wouldn’t take them out.”

Rhys felt the hair stand up on the back of his neck as he shivered involuntarily at the look on the Ringmaster’s scarred face. Mingled with that burst of fear and adrenaline was an intense wave of lust. His voice was soft and husky, “Of course I would. What circus hasn’t buried a few secrets?”  

Jack smirked, “So that’s it? You’re okay with murder? You’re past that topic?”

Rhys shrugged one shoulder, “I’ve seen death up close. I’ve been a part of it. Normal folk too often think they can get away with treating our kind badly… so how can I be mad at a man for protecting his family? That’s what family does.” He added, hastily, “Or should do.”

Jack’s lips quirked up into a pleased grin, “Sounds like your mood is improving there, Kitten. You wanna come sit up on Papa’s lap so he can tell you how happy you made him tonight?”

Rhys grinned faintly, “Yeah… I do…” He got up and moved to straddle Jack on the bench. Perhaps it was unwise to accept that answer so readily. Perhaps it was unwise to be so aroused at the thought of continuing to dally with a man who openly admitted murder. Wisdom was not among his virtues. The knife was left on the arm of the bench.

Jack lifted his arm to touch Rhys’ shoulder, sliding his fingers over the tattoos on the left side. “You were perfect. My perfect pretzel. I wanted to just run up there, tear these little shorts off of you and take you right there in front of all those people. I’ve been going mad waiting to get back here to you ever since.”

Rhys smiled down, “You’re rather impressive yourself. Your voice turns me on when it’s so… loud and thunderous.” He abruptly remembered something and reached out a hand to cover over Jack’s mouth.

Jack’s brows furrowed at having his mouth covered. He did not seem to like it.

“Jack, before we get going… I need to talk to you about something else.” He removed his hand.

Jack glowered and said demandingly,  “And what’s that?”

“Your daughter… she … can hear everything we do and that’s understandably terrible for her… Please let her move her trailer away from yours. She’s a grown woman and she…”

Jack cut him off, “She said this to you? She talks to you now but she won’t talk to me?”

“Don’t be mad, Jack,” Rhys tried to soothe him by rubbing at his shoulders, “I know you worry about her and clearly with good reason but… if you’re concerned… my brother and I can teach her how to fight. I know you think Vaughn is weak, but you need to understand that we lived in some rough areas on our off seasons. After my mother died we were dirt poor… Mama struggled to keep us fed when we weren't with the circus. We had to fight to survive and Vaughn… he’s a brawler.” He had no doubt in his mind that this would not perturb his brother to be offered up so. Vaughn would do anything to help a lady.

Jack was quiet as he thought about this. Finally he said, “I don’t know, Rhys… I don’t like making the kid miserable, but I am not going to let anything happen to her.”

“She’s a grown woman,” Rhys put both of his hands on Jack’s chest and smoothed them down the front of his shirt and waistcoat, “and I _really_ want to keep… _carrying on_ with you, but I’m not going to be able to if I know I’m causing that sweet girl discomfort.”

Jack’s expression was grim as he looked up at Rhys, “Fine. We’ll try it. I’ll have someone move her tomorrow morning… but you will definitely help teach her to fight.” One corner of his mouth lifted, “And she's just going to have to deal with it for one more night.”

Rhys leaned down and kissed Jack on the mouth, this time taking the opportunity to bite him on his lip. “Deal.” With that he leaned back stretching out while pressing his knees tightly against Jack’s thighs. He bent back until his long arms touched the floor. Once there he released Jack’s legs and lifted his own  up over his head before doing a side splits with his long legs. His toes were on the verge of knocking things from Jack’s desk.

Jack rose behind him and put a hand on Rhys’ erection, rubbing it through the blue, spangled fabric while the man balanced on his hands. “These short pants are going to have to come off.” He grinned and he moved his hand away again.

Rhys brought his legs and together to stretch out towards the ceiling. “Then get rid of them.”

Jack wasted no time in grabbing them under the waistband and tugging them off. He slid them all the way up those shapely legs while caressing them with his large hands. “You still gonna show me your trick, Kitten?”

Rhys bent his knees back and went into a backwards kneeling stance before lifting his front up and grabbing Jack by his arms to pull himself to his feet. “Whatever daddy wants daddy gets tonight. I intend to honor our original deal, even if you say I don’t have to.” He moved away to gather the wine glasses so that they might be refilled from the remainder of the wine in the bottle.

Jack said, “I appreciate that, Kitten. A man of his word is a rare commodity.” He held open the curtain so Rhys could pass through it, taking one of the glasses from him on the way.

Rhys set his glass on a shelf for the moment and jumped into the bed, landing with a bounce on the mattress. He got onto hands and knees and laid down on the bed, laying the opposite way that they normally did, with their heads near the wall. He lifted his legs up into the air and pulled them over his head and kept them bent slightly. He was left with his head and shoulders flat on the bed, the rest of him folded in half with his knees spread and bent on either side of his head. From this position his cock was directly over his mouth and his ass was spread open invitingly.

Jack took another sip of his wine before he started to unbutton his waistcoat as he stood over Rhys to watch.

Rhys licked his lips in an exaggerated fashion while looking up at Jack before his tongue slid from between his lips to trace around the tip of his pretty cock. He laughed a little. It was, after all, perfectly absurd and not something that he did with that much regularity. He preferred to simply masturbate if he was not going to have a partner. This performance was something that the clients loved; something strange to drive them to shoot their loads so quickly at its sheer sinfulness that he didn’t have to spend as much time with them as he otherwise might.

Though his preferences did not lay with women it was also the number one request he got from them, for some reason. He rarely took female clients for direct sexual contact, but he had a history of performing privately for a woman or small groups of them. These delightful evenings of being plied with wine and food were treasured for their fun and ease. Not to mention the kind of gals who hire a man to watch him suck himself off are generally of the sort to to be fun and lively natured and he always enjoyed the company of women.

His right hand wrapped around the base of his shaft and began to pull and squeeze at his sex as he gradually sucked it into his lips. The farthest he could reach his lips was just a bit above the base of his cock and he hoped Jack would be impressed.

The feeling was strange. Pleasant, but not comparable to when someone else does it. There was something to predictable about his own motions. Still, he could make himself come, though he rather hoped Jack was not interested in seeing him go all the way.

Jack untied his bowtie and tossed it aside before unfastening his belt and his trousers. He bent down to pull off those tall boots, but he kept his eye on Rhys as he did so.

The contortionist put on a show, undulating his hips to give the appearance of fucking his own face. He began to make pleasured moans, and though they were not all that genuine he was a convincing actor at his role.

With his boots removed Jack dropped his trousers quickly and was left with just his white tank top undershirt, yellow boxer shorts, black socks and sock garters. He purred, “Goddamn you look good like that.” He drifted across to his drawer to fetch the petroleum jelly for lubrication. When he had removed the lid he dipped his first two fingers of his right hand in then moved to sit on the bed by the busy contortionist.

Rhys carried on, sucking and stroking himself while moaning lewdly, muffled by his own erection. He saw Jack’s slick fingers coming to smear the lubricant around his spread hole. He tensed once and then tried to relax the muscle as Jack slowly pushed in one finger to prepare him. Slowly it pushed in before pulling out again. Then it pushed in again, creating a slow but pleasurable rhythm. When a second added and started pushing harder and deeper Rhys’ moans became more genuine.

Jack’s hands were huge and his fingers were thick and long. He kept up the slow torture, pushing his fingers deeply in before withdrawing them half way.

With a moan Rhys pulled his cock from his mouth, a dribble of precum sticking to his lip as he pulled away, “Take me… I don’t want to finish myself.”

Jack’s fingers withdrew from the ring of muscle and he wiped his fingers on his boxers as he got up and shed them to the floor. “Straighten up for me.”

Rhys brought his legs back over his head and once he was flat on his back rolled over to rise. “How do you want to do this?”

Jack scooted onto the middle of the bed and laid on his back. He said, “Grab us a towel.” While Rhys went off to do so he slathered some more of the jelly on his erect cock before stroking it up and down. “You’re going to climb up on me and do the splits on my dick, Rhysie.”  

Rhys nodded vigorously, “Definitely!” He grabbed the towel quickly and came back to the bed to hand it over to Jack.

The ringmaster wiped the excess lubricant from his fingers, saying, “Come on, Pumpkin, come be a good boy and ride your daddy.”  

Rhys climbed up on to the bed and stepped one leg over Jack’s midsection before going down onto his knees. He reached underneath himself to help guide the man’s rigid cock into his waiting and ready ass. He bit his lip with a groan as he pushed himself slowly down to take Jack in.

Jack’s mismatched eyes watched Rhys’ face as he impaled himself.

Rhys started to shift his legs, stretching them out to either side in a splits over the other man’s hips. It helped stretch his entrance, deepening the intrusion of Jack’s ample cock into him. The contortionist smiled down once he was in position.

Jack’s hands rose to grab at his ass cheeks, digging in his fingernails and spreading them as he groped. He used that leverage to slide part way free from Rhys before slamming home deeply into him.

Rhys braced his arms down on the bed and moved his hips to help assist with the motion. “Oh God, Yes!”

Once they got going, Jack released one of Rhys’ cheeks to reach around the front and start to fondle his bouncing cock.

Rhys closed his eyes a long moment, enjoying the twin sensations working in unison to drive him over the edge with pleasure. He tilted his head back, making his long white neck look even longer.

Jack let go of Rhys’ erection and his ass and used both arms to wrap around him and pull him down tight so he could start to apply painful but probably not bruising bites to that white stretch of neck skin.

Rhys bent his knees and brought his legs so that they were in an inverted missionary position, whimpering at the bites, enjoying the pressure and pain on his skin and not really caring at the moment if the man did mark him up.

After biting Jack would lick the marks liberally with his wet tongue. When he had licked and bitten Rhys’ skin all up his neck to his jawline, he rumbled in a low voice, “Voy a devorarte.”

Rhys’ eyes opened wide. He had no idea what the man said but was at least sure it wasn’t English. “What?” He asked, breathlessly.

Jack moaned and kept thrusting, not breaking his pace. “Shut up,” was Jack’s only reply as he grabbed the back of Rhys’ neck and used it to force him into a hard open mouth kiss.

Rhys let it go for the moment, being too wrecked by pleasure to focus on anything beyond Jack’s hands on him and his cock within him.

Jack’s hand slid between them again, to grip and work the other man’s shaft, now slick with precum and sweat. The other gave Rhys’ ass a smarting slap as he broke the kiss and said, “I need you to come for daddy, Rhysie. You want to be a good boy, don’t you.”

Rhys kept eye contact with Jack once they stopped kissing. He knew well by now that the man liked it that way and for reasons he could not fathom he wanted to please him so badly.

“I _said_ don’t you?” Jack squeezed his lover’s cock painfully before delivering another smack to his behind.  

“Yes, Daddy!” Rhys cried out, all promises of being quieter gone out the window in the throes of passion.

“You don’t want to be a bad boy do you?” Jack grunted as he slapped him again on the same spot, leaving a blotchy red handprint.

“No Daddy!” Rhys whimpered as Jack’s hard thrusts were hitting that special spot so perfectly that he reached that he lost control of his vocalizations and became a mess of whining need.

Jack thrust into him with all the power he could muster from this position while giving Rhys a few more hand prints on his ass.

Rhys pressed his face down to kiss Jack on the lips as he came with a muffled groan into Jack’s large, strong hand. His muscles contracted around Jack’s thrusting cock and Rhys was surprised to find that just moments later Jack was filling him up with his own orgasm. He stayed chest to chest with the man, kissing him like it were needful to life while being rocked with the ecstasy.

Jack kissed him back passionately. His eyes closed after a moment as his thrusts began to slow and eventually ceased.

Rhys shifted his kisses to the side of Jack’s face, making a soft contented sound as Jack’s hand slipped away from between them and reached for the towel.

“Sit back, Pumpkin’.” Jack said insistently. When Rhys complied he cleaned up the splatters of come left on his stomach before wiping off the younger man’s softening cock. “Alright, up with you.” He murmured.

Rhys reluctantly pulled himself free of Jack’s cock and lifted his leg to get off of him. The man offered him the towel to take care of cleaning himself up.

Jack rose and moved to get a fresh towel to take care of himself. When he was done he went to the front of the trailer.

Rhys finished wiping himself off, with a little bit of shame at having done exactly the thing Angel didn’t want him to hear. Even if she was angry, she would be glad in the morning when he gave her the good news. He stripped off the spangled top and set it aside, preferring to be fully naked.

When he headed out front, Jack had finished washing his hands and  was looking at a second bottle of wine , “Do you want another drink, kitten?”

“No thanks. There’s a lot to do tomorrow. No need to do it feeling like shit because I am hung over.” Rhys moved to soap and rinse his hands. When he was done he helped himself to looking for a washcloth in the cabinet under the basin. Finding what he was looking for he held it up to Jack, “Can I use this to wash my face? I can’t leave this makeup on. It’s terrible for your skin.”

“Yeah, Go ahead. It’s what it’s there for.” Jack set down the bottle of wine and picked up a strawberry. He sank his teeth into it  just shy of the green, leafy end.

The contortionist poured some water onto the cloth, wrung it out, and looked in the small mirror by the basin to wipe away the cosmetics. “Jack,” Rhys paused and debated asking the question.

“Yeah?” Jack looked over at him, curiously, tossing the green bit into the small waste bin by his desk.

“What language was that? You said something to to me. It wasn’t English.”

Jack grabbed a piece of chocolate and slipped back behind the curtain, “Espanol. Spanish… I told you about my cunt of a Grandmother… Well, that bitch could speak English but didn’t like to. I got slapped around if I spoke English at home, and I got smacked at school if I spoke Spanish there. Pretty… fucked up way to raise a kid.”

Rhys frowned into the mirror and kept working at scrubbing off the makeup, “I’m sorry Jack…”

Jack’s voice sounded confused, “Why?”

“I don’t know,” Rhys replied, “I guess… I just feel bad that you grew up so shitty. Not that my childhood was… great. Mama was pretty quick to smack us across the mouth if we were smart with her, or tan our hides... and we were the poor trash relatives amongst her kin, but she loved us and was always free with her affection and encouragement. I feel bad you didn’t have that.”

Jack’s voice was soft behind the curtain, “Your Irish mom… sounds like she wanted you. Mi Abuela had _no_ desire to raise any more children. She probably didn’t want to raise her own, but I got dumped with her and she never forgave me for having to waste her time and money on me… so I ran away and joined the circus.” He laughed, then, humorlessly, at the cliché of his own life.

“So, You’re Mexican?” Rhys asked.

Jack was silent a long moment before he said, “No dum dum, I’m American. My dad was Mexican. My mom was who the fuck knows. That matter to you? Because I know your brother’s making his dick disappear into my Tightrope girl so I wouldn’t figure you for a racist.”

“For the love of… Jack… Jesus.” He headed into the back room, where Jack was laying on his side on the bed. “It doesn’t matter. I’m just … curious.”

Jack eyed Rhys when he come in, looking at that unnatural prosthetic eye, “How’d you lose the eye, kiddo? Since we’re  being curious here. You still haven’t told me that. And I bet there’s a real story there.”

Rhys paused on his way to the bed and shook his head, “Okay, point taken. I’m sorry I asked anything.”

Jack pushed himself up on to one arm, “I’m curious too, kitten. Why don’t you want to tell me?”

Rhys gritted his teeth and said, “I’m not talking about this. We’re done with this topic or I’m going back to my trailer.” He folded his arms.

The older man rolled his eyes and sat all the way up, “Alright, calm down… No need to get pissy. Come over here.”

Rhys pursed his lips and narrowed his eyes before settling on the edge of the bed, “Can I ask you what it was you said to me?”

Jack lunged at Rhys on the bed, grabbing him up and pulling him close so he could bite him hard on the shoulder, causing Rhys to yelp. “I said I was going to eat you up.”

Rhys put up token resistance and punched Jack lightly on his arm before he was wrestled back against the bed and forced into position as the little spoon. He said, “And yet, here I am… uneaten.”

Jack replied, “The night is still young,” before he sank his teeth into the back of the contortionists neck.   

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This got really long. :D Also, I suck at summaries. Also, super special thanks to fuckinmouthbreather on the tumblr for helping me with the Spanish and being a cool dude.


	11. The Way the World Is

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rhys continues to be driven to think about things he would rather keep forgotten while getting closer to other members of the Circus.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has a lot of uncomfortable topics, specifically homophobia, racism and mentions of possible rape.

When Rhys strode into the chow tent the next morning he was not at all surprised that Angel sprang up from her seat with Vaughn and Yvette and threw herself against him so hard it nearly knocked him over. “Woahhhhello there… Angel.”

“Thank you so much, Rhys! He let me move to the other side of the field!” She squeezed him tight. “Thank you!” She bounced up onto the balls of her feet to give him a kiss on the side of his face. The whole tent was looking at him now.

From the corner of the tent Athena’s eyes were narrowed at the contortionist in an angrier than normal expression that made him nervous. Granted, the only person she looked at who she did not seem to want to murder was Janey.

He patted Angel carefully on her back before he tried to gently prize her away from his body. “You’re welcome. It was the least I could do.”

The expression on his brother’s face was not all that reassuring either. Rhys really had hoped to get to him before Angel did, but he slept way too late. Vaughn did not look angry perse, merely annoyed, which might actually be worse.

“Let me get some food and I’ll join you…” He said while giving Vaughn and Yvette a small wave.

Yvette returned with a finger wiggling wave while his brother merely shook his head.

“Alright…” Angel nodded agreeably and returned to her spot at their table, talking excitedly with Yvette.

Rhys did his best to avoid Athena and ignore her unfriendly looks. He returned to the table with eggs, biscuits and gravy. He slid his tray onto the table and set down his coffee mug before sitting across from Vaughn.

Vaughn said, “Good morning, Brother. I hear I’ve been volunteered.”

Angel looked from Vaughn to Rhys with an apologetic expression, “I didn’t know that he wasn’t… aware. I was just so excited.”

Vaughn shook his head, “It’s fine, Miss Angel. You need to be safe… If I can impart my small knowledge I would be more than happy to.”

Rhys looked at Vaughn and muttered, “Yeah… sorry. I meant to wake up earlier and talk to you… but it didn’t happen.”

Yvette  looked from one brother to the other with arched brows before saying to Angel, “I don’t know why you’re bothering with these fools, Sweetie. You should be asking auntie Yvette and Auntie Athena. We know how to fight off unwanted men.” She glanced at the brothers as she said the word men.

Athena spoke up from her spot beside Janey and the sisters, “If you need me, I would be more then happy to help, Angel.”

Angel smiled broadly and said, “I’ll have a bunch of teachers then… and I’ll learn what I can from all of you… and be that much more prepared.”

Janey said, “Don’t leave me out, Angel. I’ll can show you some things… course I fight best with a wrench.”

“You too Janey,” Angel grinned and raised her cup of coffee too to the blond woman.

Rhys leaned in and grinned at Vaughn, “Sorry for volunteering you but I know you are a helpful gentleman and wouldn’t ultimately mind.”

Vaughn lips twisted wryly, “I’m going to show her how to fight by pummelling you, idiot.”

Rhys chuckled. “Fine by me. I’ll throw down with you.”

Angel looked around and said, “Tomorrow morning, then? Say… 10:00 in the morning. Can we meet then?”

About half of the people in the tent pledged to be there for it. This was most definitely not the plan for how this was supposed to happen.

*    *    *    *    *

The day passed by quickly as there were two shows and plenty of things to be done beside that. Rhys wound up spending the evening alone. He rather hoped that Jack would stop by or even send for him, but no such invitation came. The good thing was that at least Vaughn was out so he would not have to share the narrow bed.

Being bored, he first read the magazine that Vaughn had borrowed from Yvette. Strange Tales, it was called. He didn’t quite have Vaughn’s levels of interest in such fiction but he enjoyed it nonetheless and read such things so that they might talk about them together. Eventually he became bored and decided to wander out amongst the camp.

People were mostly quiet, asleep in their trailers or bunk tents. It was late enough that even he should be sleeping but he just was too distracted to make himself try.

He wandered towards the outskirts of the camp, listening to the hum of the insects. He saw to his left a campfire near the trailer of the lion tamer. A dark shadow loomed nearby, closer to the cage that held the large male tiger. He took it for August at first, but it was Vallory’s deep and somber voice that spoke to him, “Come here, young man.”

Rhys pointed at himself with a confused look, as though there were anyone else near him that she might be inclined to speak to. He knew, by now, that she did speak English fluently. She chose to speak to her son in their native tongue most likely so they could speak without being overheard. Still, she had never even looked at him before like he was worth or time or interest so Rhys was surprised to be addressed by her. “Me? Uh, Ok.” Somewhat timidly he approached her her intimidating presence.

The tall, German woman looked him over speculatively. First her gaze traveled down his long legs and then back up to his face, before taking a swallow from a bottle of something with no label, which she then held out to him in an offering. As it was late, she was atired in a form-fitting night gown of black satin which showed a nearly indecent amount of her large breasts. An orange robe with black stripes similar to her feline’s was hanging from her shoulders.

Rhys knew better than to refuse her offer. Drinking together was how you got in good with the old timers and he still had plenty of people to ingratiate himself with here. He took the bottle from her and took a drink without asking what it was. It burned quite pleasantly. After he regained his breath he observed, “Tastes like… cherries. What is it?”

“Kirschwasser,” She replied simply as the Tiger nearby her made a loud, rumbling noise and shifted its head on its paw.

Rhys looked over the sleeping cat. It’s side was rising and falling in the dimness with each enormous breath. He kept his voice soft, not wanting to fully rouse the creature. “Thank you.” The bottle of liquor was passed back to the scarred woman.

“Jack tells me your mother vas Idelle Llewellyn,” Vallory said as she reached into the tiger's cage to pet its flank with her free hand.

Rhys froze in place and stood still as a statue, like prey animal when a predator has been sensed.

Vallory looked back at him with a frown, “Cat got your tongue?”  The pun had to be intentional.

“Yes, ma’am. That is true,” Rhys said, barely above a whisper.

“I knew her. Back before I had my August,” She took another drink from the Kirschwasser. “You vere very small vhen I saw you last… and your brother smaller still.”

Rhys’ brows lifted in surprise. The silence was filled with the buzzing of insects for a long moment before he could put together words, “Were you… friends?” The heavy scars on her face were hard not to look at. He kept feeling his eye go to them before realizing he was doing it and looking away awkwardly.

Vallory’s face turned back to the tiger, “Ja, ve vere friends, vorking for the same circus. She vas a very funny girl. Very clever. She used to make us all laugh.”

Rhys forced out the words, “She.... passed when I was young. I don't really remember much of her.” He could feel his back teeth grinding together. He tried to stop himself but that required effort he could not spare.

“I know.” She said simply, “A tragedy. I vas back in Berlin vhen I heard the news,” Her head shook.  “You look so very much like her.”

“I don't really… remember what she looked like,” Rhys admitted with a shrug of his shoulders.

“She vas tall… not as tall as you, but tall for a voman. You haf her eyes… vell… eye… and her hair vas similar in color to yours… She was considered very attractive by evervone’s standards. All the men alvays vanting to be vith her… and her just not caring one bit.” She laughed a hollow laugh and passed him back the bottle.

Rhys took it and took a large gulp, hoping to drown out the feelings that were rising up in him.

Vallory sauntered away from the tiger’s cage and closer to the fire as he continued, “And Sveet little Maeve… Jack tells me you say she is gone as vell. My condolences.”

“It was... “ Rhys lifted his gaze to the stars, having to think about it, “six years, going on. It was a cancer they said. Killed her slow over a few years.”

“Ahhhh,” Vallory said with melancholic understanding. “Vhen you get to be my age it is hard… So often you find people you vonce knew are gone.” When Rhys tried to hand her back the liquor she said, “You keep it. Did she ever find someone else?” The lion tamer enquired.

“No, ma’am.” Rhys shook his head. “My aunts and uncles kept trying to set her up with men… make her be a ‘proper woman’,” He made an ugly face as he said the words. “She tried, with a few of them. She almost got married, once… but it… never took. I don’t think she cared for men at all.”

Vallory laughed at the thought, though in the end it turned bitter. “She did not. Alas, men have their own ideas about vat fixes girls like that.”

Rhys felt suddenly queasy and it was was not just due to the strong alcohol. “Well… it’s… late, I should probably…”

Vallory nodded solemnly, “Of course, of course… thank you for indulging an old voman… and velcome to our circus, Rhys. You are a credit to her name. You should try using it.”

Rhys swallowed at the suggestion and said in a hurried fashion, “Thank you… very kindly, Ma’am.”

“Vallory,” she insisted as she drew herself up to her full height and wrapped her tiger printed robe up over her shoulders.

“Thank you, Vallory.” Rhys corrected  before bobbing into a little bow and turning to hurry away. He downed the rest of the bottle of liquor on the way to his trailer. There was not really that much left but it put him to sleep before he had too much time to think.   

*    *    *    *    *

Rhys awoke the next morning to Vaughn in his underwear dressing in front of him. “Nnngh… what time is it?”

“Almost Eight.” Vaughn sounded way too chipper for morning, “You should wake up if you want to get food before we start fighting young ladies.” He snickered at the thought. “Surprised to find you in. Were you drinking last night?”

Rhys pushed himself to sitting up with a groan. “Yeah… with Vallory.”

Vaughn was rifling around in his drawers, “Really? Interesting… she seems… terrifying. How did that happen?”

“I was bored, and taking a walk… after reading that entire magazine… not bad by the way… and she called me over for a drink… because… she knew our mothers.”

Vaughn dropped the slacks back in his drawer and turned around. “Really?”

Rhys nodded, grimly, “Back when they were first together, by the sound of it. She was a friend of theirs while working in the same circus. She knew about Mother… but I had to fill her in on Mama.”

Vaughn nodded sadly, “The world is so large and yet so small.”

“She also implied… things… that while… not… as shocking as they should be… were hard to hear,” Rhys’ head hurt more than he liked and he sincerely hoped breakfast would help fix that. He combed his hands through his hair.  It was still gross and stiff from yesterday’s pomade but there was no sense getting bathed before going to teach anything about fighting.

Vaughn frowned and asked in a fashion that implied he really was not sure he wanted to know the answer to his own question, “What did she say?”

Rhys said, flatly, “Well she implied our fathers were rapists.”

Vaughn shrugged at that, and turned back to dressing, “Oh… I just always assumed that... or if not some other manner of low life. I hardly imagined them as captains of industry. Our mothers were utterly Sapphic, brother.” He pulled on his slacks and started buttoning them.

“It doesn’t bother you?” Rhys asked solemnly.

“I mean it bothers me that terrible things happened to them, sure. But regardless of our bastardy and parentage… they loved us. That’s the sort of thing you should remember. They could have despised and tormented us as reminders of whatever it was that happened… or abandoned us to the state.”

“I know,” Rhys shrugged one shoulder and wiped the crust of sleep from his eyes. The taste in his mouth was terrible.

Vaughn said, “You know Mother would be very proud of you… taking after her… being such a wonderful performer… the way you took care of Mama and I back then.” He pulled on his shirt and fastened the buttons. “Mama was proud of you. That year I stayed home to care for her, you were all she ever talked about.”

Rhys smiled warmly up at Vaughn, “She was proud of you too.”

Vaughn snorted, “I don’t know about that. She would be now… maybe… but I don’t think she was when she passed. Rather always felt like I helped drive her into the grave.”

Rhys stood up and put his arms around Vaughn’s shoulders. “That’s not true… She was sick… we didn’t know it until she wanted us to know it. You didn’t cause anything. Sometimes… things just happen for no good reason.”  

Vaughn leaned his head back against his brother’s chest. “Thank you Rhys. I’m sorry we’ve been fighting so much.”

“Me too.” He kissed the top of Vaughn’s head. “You were… right by the way. Jack did kill that Vasquez… but I was right in that he was out of line with Miss Angel… It sounds… well... very justified from the way I see it.”

Vaughn seemed leery but said agreeably, “I’ll take your word on it.” He squirmed around to face Rhys, who kept his arms around him but lifted them a bit so he could turn. “If he makes you happy… then I’m going to be happy for you, alright?”

“Don’t make it sound like I’m in love with him.” Rhys rolled his eyes like that was ridiculous before letting his brother go so he too could start to dress.

Vaughn eyed Rhys before turning to look himself over in the mirror and retorted, “You’re the one who brought up the L word.”

“He has no real interest in me.” Rhys opined, affecting a tone of nonchalance as he grabbed his roughest pair of slacks and began to dress, “I’m just an… entertaining plaything and he’ll eventually be rid of me. And he is the same for me. A diversion to pass the time until … another diversion comes along.” He dropped the act, revealing more sorrow than intended when he said,  “I’m never going to get the white picket fence, Vaughn. That’s just not the way the world works for people me.”

“Don’t say that. You don’t know that.” Vaughn’s face turned somber as he spoke.

“Oh but I do… Do you remember… when you spied on me kissing that boy… that really good looking son of that Roustie? Kyle… Kevin? I don’t recall his name.”

Vaughn made a guilty face, “Yeah… I wasn’t trying to get you in trouble… I was just… confused,” His voice had a touch of defensiveness to it.

Rhys gave him a stern look, “Whatever, Tattletale. I thought I was going to be in a world of hurt when she came to me with tears in her eyes, but she said… something like… ‘Son, our Father in Heaven has put a terrible burden on you. Foolish people will despise you and try to bring you harm for loving who you love, but God loves you and I love you more.’ I knew then I was never going to have what other people have.” He shrugged, like it were all meaningless. “I am probably already too far gone to have that anyway.” He could see Vaughn’s eyes tearing up and it made him feel oddly guilty.

Vaughn shook his head and pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket to staunch his tears, “I hate the world, sometimes. So unrelentingly cruel to some and kind to others… You’re not too far gone for anything.  And if this Jack is not the one to love you, you’ll find someone who will. Because you deserve it. You know, It would be illegal for me to marry Yvette in this godforsaken place. Not … that I’m… anywhere near that stage yet… but… it’s still very awful.”

Rhys just put on an undershirt. There was no point to wearing more if he was just going to be horsing around. “It’s terrible...“

“Yvette says that Jack has them, the dark skinned men and women, pretend to be from India.” Vaughn snorted at the stupidity and indignity of it all, “Apparently, it works to  get them in places they otherwise wouldn’t be allowed to go. People treat them better because they think they’re exotic.”

Rhys shook his head, somewhere between dismay and amusement, “That’s certainly clever but… awful… that it's required.” He sat down to put on his shoes.

Vaughn nodded as he stuffed the handkerchief back in his pocket,”To hell with everything.”

Rhys agreed, “Except breakfast…”

Vaughn echoed, “Except that.”

*    *    *    *    *

Rhys arrived to find half of everyone in in a bare patch of grass on their day off waiting to show Angel a trick or two or merely watch the excitement. He was a little distressed to see that this had become such a popular event. LB was there, holding Gortys in one arm so she could watch the proceedings from a higher vantage point. Sasha and Fiona were standing with August, chatting amongst themselves.

He was most unnerved to find that the big man himself was there. Jack was standing next to Vaughn with one arm wrapped tightly around the shorter man and he had him pulled into an uncomfortably close position.

The illusionist had a look of fake enthusiasm as the Ringmaster crushed him against his side. Jack’s head was craned down to Vaughn’s face to talk to him. What they were speaking about Rhys could not and did not want to imagine.

The purple haired blade mistress, Athena, was already hard at work with Angel. It was good that she and Yvette seemed so interested in taking over this debacle. Part of him wanted just to flee from it no sooner than he had arrived.

Kroger stood in the crowd next to his fellow clown, Finch. Both were attired in their civilian clothing and they were joking and talking amongst themselves as always. He called as he saw Rhys approaching, “Now what I want to see is the new guy fight Athena.”

Rhys frowned said, “Come on. This isn’t about fighting… anyone. It’s about… self defense.” He desperately wanted to save his brother from his lover rather than deal with hazing from his new troupe.

Kroger declared, like one trying to stir up drama to ease their own boredom, “He’s scared to fight the woman.”

August laughed and called over to him, “You’re still just sore because that voman kicked your ass last month, clown.” He nudged Sasha, who grinned and shook her head.

Athena looked over from what she was telling Angel and said, “I’ll fight anyone who wants to fight.” She looked right at Rhys, pointedly.

Rhys looked down at himself and held his hands up, “Why would I want to fight you? I don’t intend to fight anyone.”

It was then that Jack spoke up from from where he held the younger O’Byrne hostage, “Come on, Rhysie. Angel needs some demonstrations. You volunteered.”

Angel blushed at all the fuss being made on her behalf, but stayed quiet, clearly attempting to really learn what she was being taught like an eager student.

Athena’s head swiveled to watch Jack and nodded at her employer’s suggestion agreeably, “Yes… Good idea, Sir.” Then she said commandingly to the contortionist,”Rhys… try to attack me from behind.”

Rhys groaned inwardly. “Like… how?” He glared over at Jack who had one of his most shit eating grins on his stupid, handsome face.

Athena ordered, “Grab my shoulder, like you were going to try to turn me around. Angel, watch carefully.”

“Alright,” Rhys complied as the purple haired woman turned her back on him. He strode up to her and put his right hand on her left shoulder and started to turn her to face him.

In an instant, Athena swung around and brought both of her hands down on his arm at the elbow and sank all her weight on him, unbalancing him and immediately bringing him to the ground as she went down as well, trapping his arm underneath her.

Rhys made an undignified, “AaaaaAAAAhhh,” as he swiftly crashed to the ground.

There was more than a bit of laughter as Athena sprang back to her feet and asked the wide eyed Angel, “Did you see what I did there?” With no concern as to the man at her feet.

“Yes, I think so,” the young woman replied. She was not laughing, at least. “Can I try it on you?”

Rhys got to his feet and dusted himself off, giving the guffawing clowns and then Jack a surly expression.

Angel and Athena practiced the maneuver together, giving Rhys time to wander over to the Ringmaster to save poor Vaughn from his lover’s grasp.

It didn’t help. As soon as Rhys was close enough, Jack put an arm around him as well and crushed him against his other side. “Gotta hand it to you, Rhysie, this was a great idea. In no time my little girl is going to be tossing fools twice her size and I have you to thank for it. To think I almost threw you both out on your asses.”  

Rhys smirked as he looked the ringmaster in his eyes and said, “Glad to be of service Jack.”

“You have no idea how happy I am that you little fighting Irish bastards came and signed up with us,” Jack declared. “You little money makers were the shot in the arm we needed.”  

“We’re… thrilled to be here,” Vaughn said in a monotone that indicated anything but being thrilled.

Jack finally released the younger of the brothers and brought his arm down to place it firmly on the magician’s ass and propel him forward, “Alright, your turn, Vaaaaaawwwwwwwn,” Jack drawled out his name.

Vaughn’s eyes widened dramatically at the hand on his behind and he hurried away from Jack like being pummelled by Athena was a preferable outcome to spending another second close to that man.

Athena gave something of a smile to Vaughn, like whatever she had against Rhys did not seem to carry over to his brother. Either that or she was delighted to have another man to bruise up. Vaughn handed his glasses off to Yvette for safekeeping before approaching her.

Jack said lowly into Rhys’ ear as he watched his brother prepare to get his clock cleaned by the knife woman. “So we’re going to leave around… six. We’re a good hour out from where I’m taking you. We’ll be gone the night… wake up early… and come back in time to pull up stakes tomorrow.”

Rhys smiled with genuine pleasure. He missed being with the man the night before more than he cared to admit even to himself, “Sounds great. The suit you gave me fits like a glove.”

Jack licked along his ear along the outer bit of cartilage which made him shiver. “I’m going to strip it off you later, like the prettiest wrapping paper on the best Christmas present.”

“Well I look forward to seeing what Handsome Jack wears when he’s cleaned up.” He grinned, “Not counting your Ringmaster outfit, which of course, looks amazing on you… but that’s hardly fitting clothing for a nice dinner.”

Jack didn’t respond right away, being too busy laughing his ass off as Athena sent Vaughn flying over her shoulder on his back into the dust. He called over to her, “Don’t hurt his hands, Athena. He needs them to work.” He then joked, “What do they call a magician with broken hands?” He didn’t wait for anyone to ask before finishing his joke, “Unemployed.”  

Vaughn called back from the ground, “Why doesn’t _Rhys_ come over here so I can show Angel some of my takedowns on him.”

Jack laughed heartily at the suggestion and pushed Rhys towards the action as he had Vaughn earlier; with a hand on his ass, “Oh this is gonna be good. Have fun, Pumpkin.”

The brothers wound up having a much needed scuffle and wrestling session, which served to help them both get out their mild aggressions on each other while entertaining the hell out of Handsome Jack and most of the onlookers.

Rhys could hear bets being made against him pretty early on, which was disheartening mostly because he knew in the end Vaughn could take him in a fight.

Being the sole representative of responsibility in the group, Athena took the opportunity to educate Angel on all the things that they were doing wrong.

Later, it was agreed that the whole affair was the most amusing thing that had happened in the circus in some time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> African Americans pretending to be from India in order to travel without being harassed is not something I made up for this fic. It actually did happen in the South on occasion. 
> 
> Thank you everyone who has left comments or otherwise messaged me with kind words and feedback on this fic. You guys all rock and thank you so much for reading. 
> 
> Special thanks to nihongoochitsuite on tumblr who drew this awesome contortionist Rhys!  
> http://sinesthero.tumblr.com/image/141634103314
> 
> Also, for non tumblr peeps, I commissioned this art from Asphyxiate-my-soul on tumblr! It was a while ago, but it never occurred to me until recently that I could post a link.  
> http://sinesthero.tumblr.com/post/140552640959/mandaocity-asphyxiate-my-soul-commission-for?is_related_post=1


	12. A Night Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack and Rhys have a night out at a fancy restaurant to get to know each other better.

Rhys met Jack the car at 6:00 PM sharp. He was freshly bathed and dressed in that black, pin-striped suit from Jack. His chestnut colored hair was slicked back with his favorite pomade and his yellow pocket square was placed just so. The shoes were lovely and clearly expensive. Though he knew that they would take a while to break in, he hoped they would not bother him too much.

Jack was leaning against the car smoking a cigarette as he waited for Rhys. It seemed he cleaned up well as he was dressed in a suit similar to Rhys’ though more closely fitted and larger at the shoulders.  It too had pinstripes but at a wider gap than the ones on Rhys’ suit. His tie was a dark blue and his pocket square matched. The shirt underneath was a pale gray. They would make for a very formal looking pair. The ringmaster looked him over like he was internally rating his appearance. “You look outstanding, Kiddo.”

“Why thank you.” Rhys struck a pose with one arm in the air, the other lightly touching his chest. “You’re looking rather fantastic yourself.”

“Thanks. I can’t take credit for anything. I make Angel pick everything out.” Jack said as he went and unlocked Rhys door. He waited for Rhys to get in and settled before he closed the door.

Reaching out a long arm over across the cab of the vehicle, Rhys opened the lock on Jack’s side for him.

Jack’s face lit up in pleasure as he sat down and closed his door. The engine was fired up on the yellow Studebaker.

As they were pulling on to the road Rhys grinned slyly and said, “I’m not sucking you off in the car this time, just so you know.”

Jack snickered and glanced over at him, “Wasn’t going to ask… though I wouldn’t turn it down if you offered. I’m taking you for a nice night out, Rhysie. I figure I’ll get what I want later tonight.” He winked and chuckled.

Rhys shrugged and said, “If you play your cards right... “ he let his words trail off.

A loud guffaw came from Jack in reply, “Is that what you think? You can’t keep your hands off of me.”

“Oh I could say the same thing, Mister Grabby,” Rhys retorted with a little smirk.

Jack said cheerfully, “You’re only proving my point that we are going to have an amazing night. So this restaurant… it’s French… fancy shit. I like to go there when I’m around these parts.”

Rhys said, “I am sure I’ll love it.”

Jack continued on, “We’re going to be staying at the house of a friend that I happen to have a key to - outside the city. Don’t worry, he’s not home… he’s actually part of our troupe but he took a bit of leave for some… Iunno, some nonsense… or something.”

“He doesn’t mind you taking people home to his house to have sex with them?” Rhys squinted skeptically.

“Nah, he’s… a little weird, but he works for me. He wouldn’t care,” Jacks voice was reassuring.

“What’s his act, or is he a roustie?” Rhys enquired as he watched the rural scenery go by through the window.

“He runs a side show… I’ll make him show you when he rejoins us next month. It’s weird shit.”

“A side show? Sounds fun, or creepy, but really they amount to about the same thing,” the lanky man murmured.

Jack reiterated, “It’s weird… but people like it. There’s no accounting for taste.”

Rhys teased as he turned to Jack and reached out to casually touch his leg, “I know. After all I am here with you.”

Jack’s grin was lopsided as he looked over at his lover, “Oh ha ha, real funny. I seem to recall you throwing yourself into my arms.” He paused as something came to his mind, “Hey, hey, hey... by the way… Vallory… grilling me about who you are. What’s the deal with that?”

Rhys was silent as he collected his thoughts together, “She knew both my mothers. Worked in the same circus when Vaughn and I were small.” He tried to downplay it, “You know how it is, it’s a small brotherhood of our sort.”

Jack’s brows lifted in understanding, “The old Hun wouldn’t tell me why she was asking. What did she say to you?”

Rhys shook his head, “Oh the … usual… ‘I haven’t seen you since you were this high.’ That kind of nonsense.” He was, as ever, eager to change the subject and he said, “By the way, I just wanted to thank you for everything. You’ve really helped me out when I needed it … I feel, like I’m getting much more… back on my feet now.”

Jack slid his eyes over to Rhys while barely moving his head before glancing back to the road. There was a seriousness to his voice that was not often there as he said, “So… How long you been a prosty, Rhys?”

Rhys looked back out the window, pointedly, and said, “That’s a fairly personal question. I never have considered it my occupation. More like something that I do in my spare time.”

Jack said softly, “Yeah? I never said it was. Are you going to answer it the question?”

“Sixteen,” Rhys shrugged, “Give or take. I had mouths to feed. I told you, we were very poor.” His voice had a strain of defensiveness laced into it.

The Ringmaster nodded grimly, his eyes dead on the road ahead, “Yeah. We do shit that isn’t good for us when we’re desperate,” he said, rather mildly.

Rhys shrugged one shoulder, “Eventually I didn’t need to, but… I like money. I like things. It almost killed me to feel that poor again after Henderson’s. I’d rather be dead then hungry,” it sounded melodramatic even to him, but he did not retract his statement.   

Jack let silence fall for a moment before he cleared his throat and said, “Look, Rhys, as long as you stick with Old Jack… you don’t need to worry about money or about going hungry.”

“I don’t… know… Jack… you’re very kind, but… do we have to have this discussion? It’s all a bit… much.” Rhys kept his gaze out the window.

“No… we don’t,” Jack said as he got out a cigarette, passing it and his lighter over to his companion. “Light it for me, would ya?”

“Sure,” Rhys said. He lit the cigarette and took a puff before passing it over to Jack. Then he cranked down his window a bit to blow out the smoke.

With the cigarette hanging from between his lips he reached out his hand and patted Rhys on his shoulder, “C’mon, I didn’t mean to bring you down. I just don’t think… you should be doing that.”

Rhys replied icily, “Consider your thoughts ‘officially noted.’”

A tense silence filled the cab of the car for a while as they gradually wound their way to the city. Rhys fixed it by tuning in the radio to play some instrumental Jazz music. He was concerned he had spoiled the mood by being contrary, but after a while Jack returned to being his typically crass self and he started to feel better. They kept conversation to lighter subjects.

The restaurant experience was lovely. Jack bought a bottle of champagne that they drank down to the last drop while ordering several courses of delightful food. As they dined they traded tales of the roving life and discussed their favorite American cities. Rhys’ favorite hands down was New Orleans while Jack enjoyed New York.

Jack was full of stories and had a way with telling them. Though it seemed he was better at telling the ones of no personal meaning to him. Those were full of details and funny facts.

Rhys supposed he was the same way, sparing in the personal details and free with the ones that served to make an entertaining story better.

They were on to dessert and cocktails when Rhys, being tipsy on the verge of drunk, leaned in close and asked, “Jack, Darling?”

Jack’s brows raised and he said, “Darling? Be careful what you say here, Rhysie… it ain’t the roaring twenties anymore… hasn’t been for a long time. Things are changing ever more for the worse for… people like you...” He reluctantly corrected himself, “us.”

Rhys licked chocolate mousse off the edge of a brightly polished silver spoon. “Sorry… Jack.” He leaned forward. “You know… I don’t even really know your name… will you tell me?”

Jack sipped from his dirty martini and said, “Ehhh, kinda depends on which one you’re looking for. Presently? Tassiter.”

Rhys scooped the last of his desert from its plate saying, “You’ve changed it?”

Jack pursed his lips like he was thinking, his brow knitting together in a thoughtful expression, “So… when I left home and joined the circus… It belonged to a guy by the name of Harold Tassiter. Originally there apparently were some Wop brothers that started the whole shebang, but by the time I got there Tassiter was running the show. He wasn’t a performer… just the owner, the money man… Anyway… He took me in…had someone teach me to do some tricks… He wound up legally adopting me… and when he died, he left everything he had to yours truly.”

“We have more in common then I’d thought.” Rhys observed quietly, “I’m sorry for your loss.” He did not ask how the man died. That might invite questions he was not going to answer.

Jack offered no further details, “Don’t be,” Jack said, looking off at a random architectural detail, “He was a complete dick. A step up from my Grandma, but eehhh still a bastard.” He tossed back the rest of his drink.

Rhys nodded in response and said his name to himself like he was getting used to it, “Handsome Jack Tassiter… I like it… what was your first name?”

Jack took in a deep breath, “If you laugh, or if you tell _anyone_ , I will fuck you up,” He threatened. His voice lowered, “I used to be Juan Carlos Vega Castillo, but most everyone called me John.”

Rhys set his fork down after consuming the last bit of the decadent dessert. “Juan Carlos Vega Castillo… hmmmm. Sounds romantic.”

“Don’t call me that.” Jack grumbled as he pointed at Rhys and gave him his sternest look, the one that really reminded Rhys that he was in fact someone’s actual father. “I don’t answer to that anymore, you get me? I told you because you asked… and unlike some people, I answer important questions.”

Rhys rolled his eyes, “Ugh, get over it, Jack!” His voice got a little loud, “For the love of all that’s holy. I’m not being fucking _coy_. I can’t talk about my eye... Okay?”

Jack frowned and said sternly, “Quit it with the cursing, Princess. Don’t make a scene, and I’m betting it is more on the won’t and less on the can’t, but fine. Have your way.”

Rhys looked cross and pursed his lips but otherwise stayed silent.  

The very uptight looking waiter passed near and Jack said, hastily, “Check, Please. Chop Chop.”

When they left the restaurant, Jack had to keep an hand on Rhys’ arm.  Every time he stopped Rhys started to drift away from him.

Partially because Rhys was so tipsy, he didn’t really stay cross with Jack very long. As soon as they were on the road he put a hand on Jack’s thigh. “Thank you. That was… very fun… I can’t wait to get to the house of this friend of yours.”

“It’s going to be a bit, Pumpkin. Glad you enjoyed yourself.” He turned on the Radio to entertain the younger man in the meantime and used only one hand to drive so that the other could cover Rhys’ hand on his leg.

It was a good forty five minutes before they pulled up to a small, white house on the edge of the city. It had a fairly expansive yard and was set back always from the road. There was a large trailer like the ones that housed the performers at the circus, though it was covered over with a tarp and resting on the side of the house. The house had a modest front porch with a rocking chair resting on it. From the outside, it appeared as a very normal dwelling.

They pulled up the long driveway  and parked the car before Jack turned off the vehicle and its headlights. “You sobered up a bit, Kitten? Can you walk?”

Rhys opened the car door and said, “Yeah… I’m better now." A thought occurred to him and exclaimed, "Oh my God… Does your friend have an indoor shower?”

Jack grinned wickedly, “He sure does… hey, make sure to lock the door before you close it.”

Rhys obediently locked the car door and pushed it shut before he made his way around the Vehicle to Jack’s side. “Can I use it? I haven’t had a real shower in months.”

“Why the hell not,” Jack said. “We could take one together even… so I make sure your vain ass doesn’t use up all the hot water.”

He lead Rhys up to the door and unlocked it, before ushering his lover inside. “Let me just find a light... “ bumbled around for a moment and flipped on a lamp.

As soon as the room was illuminated Rhys recoiled in horror. Though the room as well maintained, the décor was just short of horrifying. There were shelves everywhere, each one containing items that seemed possibly more hideous than the last. There were countless jars of dead things from fish to reptiles to mammals. Some held organs or oddities Rhys could not even guess at. There was all manner of terrifying and bewildering bones and skulls from creatures Rhys was certain he had never seen.

Rhys took in a few deep breaths. “Oh… that kind of side show…”

Jack said, defensively, “I told you, he’s weird… but look… plumbing… privacy… come on, buck up, kiddo.”

Rhys laughed, “Yeah, I’m fine, I just wasn’t... “ He made a snerk sound as he laughed.

Jack took him by his arm and lead him towards the bathroom. “Alright, I said I was going to unwrap you…”

Rhys grinned, “You did…” He held his arms out at his sides.

Jack wasted no time in reaching for his tie to untie it. The bathroom of this a bode was off of the kitchen, so he threw the tie on the kitchen table. The suit coat followed in short order. Once Rhys was completely naked he gave him a smack on the rear and said, “Go fire up the shower, I’ll be in in a minute."

Rhys turned on the light and glanced around, on guard for anything strange he might see. When it was all clear and the powder-blue tiled bathroom proved itself relatively normal he stepped into the tub carefully, pulled the curtain around and turned on the water. He let it run in the bottom, feeling the temperature with his toe. When it was finally warm enough he switched on the shower. It was like heaven raining down on him. Warm and cleansing and perfect in the way that few things were. He was only under the water a few moments when Jack opened the curtain and climbed in behind him.

Jack put his hands on Rhys’ hips and started to kiss along the tattoo on Rhys’ neck.

Rhys laughed and turned around, reaching to grab the bar of soap. “We’re not having sex in the shower. I don’t want to smash my face into this awful tile.” He started to lather up the bar and slid his hands over Jack’s hairy chest. “And we don’t know how long the hot water will last. I am not risking it.”

The expression on Jack's face was very nearly a pout, “Ahh you’re no fun. What’s the use? We’re just going to get dirty again.”

Rhys reached down and ran his soapy fingers across Jack’s groin and pulled back his foreskin carefully to give his cock a thorough washing. “Then we can have another in the morning before we go.” He grinned.

“Have it your way,” the man with the scarred face said with a shrug as though he could not care one bit, though Rhys could tell he was eager to get to the fun by the way he hurriedly helped his partner wash in return.

When they were done and toweled off, Jack ransacked the medicine cabinet until he located some Vaseline. With it in hand, he grabbed Rhys and dragged him naked through the house to the home’s only bedroom.

The walls were covered over in old performance bills in almost every conceivable space, including several for the Bartelli Brother’s circus. Some of them were for specific performers and they ranged from current to rather old and faded.

There were less dead things in here, though still more than in a normal person’s bedroom. There was a series of skulls that looked like they might belong to various weasels or something of the sort on a shelf alongside what appeared to be a shrunken human head. On the dresser was a taxidermied rattle-snake all coiled up like it was about to strike. 

The walls beneath the bills were painted a sickly green and the floors were wooden with thin rugs haphazardly put here or there. The top blanket of the nicely made bed was a dark green.

The ringmaster tossed his contortionist down onto the bed and the bedsprings squeaked ominously as the young man bounced.

Rhys laughed at the squeak.  “Good thing the neighbors aren’t close.”

Jack chuckled as he looked down at the other man, “I wouldn’t give a damn if they were.” He jumped onto the bed making it bounce and squeal before climbing over Rhys. Bending down, he kissed the younger man warmly on the lips before pulling back to say, “What does my pretty boy want tonight, hmmm? I got my fun all week long, so it's your turn to tell me how you want it.” That said he bent down and bit Rhys’ near hairless chest.

  
Rhys bit his lower lip while exposing his teeth at the bite. “Hmmmmmmnnn.”  He feigned deliberation for a moment before saying, “I want you on top… like this.”

The broad shouldered man moved to the side and put a hand between Rhys’ knees to pull them apart before settling between them. Jack arched downward, seeming for a moment like he was going to take Rhys’ freshly cleaned cock into his mouth, but instead he pressed his lips to the other man’s flat stomach and blew hard to make a farting noise that left Rhys laughing.

“Fuck you, Jack. I’m horny,” he whined. “Don’t tease me.”

Jack responded by wrapping a large hand around Rhys’ erection and giving it a firm, almost painful, squeeze that made Rhys moan and grind his wet hair against the bed. “Tsk tsk tsk,” he shook his head, “Such a rude little shit you are.” He leaned over Rhys and stretched out an arm to snatch one of the pillows before grabbing the man under the legs and lifting him up. The pillow was stuffed under his lower back to help position him better. It also made it easier for him to give the younger fellow a resounding slap on the ass for being a pushy little cuss.

Rhys cried out at the unexpected shock of pain, “Ouch!” He gave him his best pouting look.

Jack only smiled in response, “Oh you love it, Kitten. You aren’t fooling anyone.” He opened the petroleum jelly and scooped some out to smear it on his own eagerly erect cock..

“Just… fucking take me already… stop pussy footing,” the contortionist taunted before licking his lips to wet them.  

Jack now took Rhys by his cock and squeezed it again, “You just want me to take you? No preparation? Cuz I can do that, Princess, but it might hurt.” He nonetheless smeared some of the lube on Rhys’ opening.

Rhys spread his legs as far apart as he could, saying with one brow raised like a challenge, “Get on with it, old man.”

“Your funeral, pal,” Jack chuckled as he edged up closer on his knees and pushed himself against Rhys’ ass. Though he talked tough, Rhys could tell he was being extra gentle as he pushed himself into the younger man’s tight ring of muscle.

Rhys closed his eyes and pushed his head back into the bed, moaning at the pain and doing his best to relax. “Oh fuck…”

Jack mocked him quietly, “Just fuck me old man. I’m Rhys and I’m an impatient little fuck.”

Laughter through gritted his teeth at the taunting was Rhys’ only response as Jack buried himself ever deeper inside him.

“You like that pain, Princess? You like it when daddy fills you up so tight with his big cock?” Jack asked him with a wicked grin.

Rhys kept his eyes shut tight and said with a hefty dose of sass, “Yeah, daddy, I fucking love it. I think I asked you to fuck me, though, not deliver a monologue.”

Jack laughed, “oh ho ho ho, you are something else.” He withdrew partially only to thrust himself back into his lover's tight ass while his large hands held onto the other’s thighs tightly.

Rhys’ eyes opened and he was about to say something snappy in response but the words died on his tongue when he noticed the man looming in the doorway. A banshee like scream came, unbidden, from his lips.

The strange, gangly man at the door was wearing aviator sunglasses even though it was night. He was wearing an outlandish Aloha shirt that was a pale red with pale blue palm tree designs on it. Over it he wore something that looked like a tan fisherman’s vest and his strange hat was also similar to something a fisherman might wear; floppy and cloth with a blue band around brim. Clenched between his teeth was, for no evident reason, what looked like a bottle rocket. The man gave no visible reaction to Rhys' screaming.

The compromised Ringmaster spun his head around to see what his lover was screaming about and instantly joined him in shouting, “God Damn it, Shade! Get the fuck out, Now!”

Shade waved casually, “Well, hi, there Jack, sir! Wasn’t expecting to see you here.” He waved to the other man as well in a friendly way as though Rhys was not naked and in the middle of being fucked. “Hello, stranger. It is so nice to meet a friend of Handsome Jack’s!”

Rhys grabbed at the top blanket to pull it over himself to try to cover his nudity as his terror turned to anger and the realization dawned that this man was the owner of the house; the one that was supposed to be not home. He squirmed away, not about to sit there and have a conversation with this stranger with Jack’s dick in him.

Jack shouted at Shade again, looking around to see if there was anything to throw at the man to make his point clearer, “Go wait outside, damnit!” There was not, and it only served to make him angrier.

Shade replied, casually, “Sure…for how long?” His head cocked to one side, his strange eyes just barely visible beneath the large sunglasses.

“Until I come and get you. GO! GO!,” Jack roared.

The man called Shade obediently trotted off and left the house as silently as he had entered it.

Glaring with his mismatched eyes at Jack, Rhys rose up from the bed and headed for the kitchen.

Jack called after, “Where the fuck are you going?”

Rhys replied testily, “To get dressed! Obviously!”

“Aww, Pumpkin, come on. He’ll wait.” Jack called after him, clearly still hoping to salvage this disastrous encounter.

“No.” Rhys said firmly.

Jack stalked after him to find Rhys clutching his boxers. “Oh come on, it's just a little setback,” he wheedled, still fully erect and obviously ready to carry on.

“We’re going back to the camp. Please put your clothing on.” Rhys said frostily as slid on his boxers and started on the undershirt.

“You’re not seriously mad at me are you? I didn’t know he was going to be home early…” He grabbed his underwear and undershirt and disappeared into the bathroom, leaving the door cracked open a bit so he could still speak to his partner.

Rhys sighed in exasperation, “I’m not mad at you. I’m just... humiliated.”

Jack’s voice was cajoling as he spoke next, “Come on, kitten, it's fine. Shade’s harmless.”

“UGH.” Rhys exclaimed as he stepped into his striped slacks. Leaving the rest of the ensemble on the kitchen table, he headed to the front door and stepped out.

Shade was rocking himself in the chair, still biting down on the end of that ridiculous firework. There was a beat up, blue Chrysler truck behind Jack’s in the driveway which had not been there before.  

Rhys looked down at him as he shut the screen door, “I’m… really sorry about this. Jack told me you weren’t home.”

Shade smiled up at him, his thin, chapped lips peeling back to expose a mess of large teeth, “Not a problem at all, my friend! I was not supposed to be back for another month. I was going to join up later but, plans changed and now here I am.” He got to his feet. “I’m Shade and you are?” He held out a hand clad in a driving glove.

“Rhys… Rhys O’Byrne,” He shook the man’s gloved hand, “My brother and I just joined up with the circus a bit over a week ago. It’s nice to meet you. We’re gonna… uh… leave you your house and head back to the circus.”

“Oh no,” Shade’s head shook, “You don’t have to go! I can sleep on the couch, or in my trailer! In fact, I insist… it’s too late for driving. I’ll make you breakfast in the morning, it’ll be great.”

Jack headed out of the house as well, dressed to the same level as Rhys. His scarred face looked particularly dour and he glared at Shade like he wanted to end his life.

Shade said, “Jack, you and your… gentleman friend here are free to take my room. I’ll go get my trailer ready and sleep in there. It’s too late to drive.”

“What the hell are you doing back from San Francisco? You were supposed to be there another month,” Jack glowered and folded his thick, hairy arms across his chest.

The contortionist frowned darkly at the older man and said with narrowed eyes, “Don’t be mad at him for coming back to his _own home_ early, Jack.”

Shade replied anyway, seeming to take Jack’s anger in stride like he did not even notice it was there, “I made some incredible finds and I’ve been missing you all _SO_ much that I just had to cut things short. You are not going to believe your eyes when you see some of the specimens I have brought back.”

Jack's shoulders slumped, his anger settling down to a general grumpiness, “Alright, alright… well… Hell. So I guess we’ll stay. It’s late… and we’re pulling up stakes tomorrow, so we should all be ready to go early… six at the latest.” With that he went back into the house, letting the screen door slam behind him as he headed back to Shade’s bedroom.

Rhys smiled awkwardly and said, quietly,  “Thank you… sorry again… about all of this and… I… guess we’ll see you in the morning.”

Shade smiled and raised a hand, “Good night, Rhys. Such a pleasure to meet you. We are going to be such good friends, I can already tell!”

Rhys’ mouth hung open a moment and he was not sure what to say before he settled with, “Yeah! I’m … sure we will. Good night.”

He returned to the bedroom where Jack was already naked and waiting to resume their earlier activities. After closing the door, he shook his head at Jack, “No… let’s just go to sleep.”

“Fine,” Jack said sullenly and let the matter drop for the moment. When Rhys undressed and climbed in next to him in the bed, however, his hands and mouth began to make a persuasive case for not just going to sleep.

Rhys tried to slap his hands away and protest, but eventually he just gave in. He was surprisingly still in the mood for sex as much as Jack was.

Both the contortionist and the bedsprings did a heavy amount of squealing into the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Glossary: 
> 
> Huns: Derogatory term for the Germans. 
> 
> Wops: Derogatory term for Italians. 
> 
> Prosty: Slang for Prostitute.


	13. Don't Let the Curtain Fall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time passes and Rhys' doubts grow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Some unpleasant content in this chapter. I'm hesitant to elaborate beyond that, but its on the dark side of things.

Rhys settled into an easy pattern of life over the next three weeks. The rousties seemed less hostile toward him since Angel’s now infamous first fighting lesson. Those lessons that followed were not so chaotic because the times were generally not widely announced. Athena maintained a presence there, though unfortunately she had not yet been won over by Rhys’ sparkling personality. He could see that she distrusted him and he really could not figure out why. Nonetheless, she was the best of them to teach Angel anything so they made an effort to get along.

Shade turned out to be friendly and sincere, if not downright strange. Still, as a performer in the circus, he was hardly the first strange individual Rhys had come into contact with. He was beyond excited to make friends with the contortionist and his brother. Both men were given the grand tour of all of his oddities. Shade’s ‘World of Curiosities’ had all the classics. Amongst the other countless items there was a jackalope, a two headed cat, a chupacabra, and even a Fiji Mermaid. Purported to be the mummified body of a mermaid it was in fact half a monkey stitched to a fish tail.

There was more than a little time for Rhys to spend alone as Jack was frequently busy. He would see him around every day, but it was only every second or third night that they had the opportunity to spend any real time together. True to Rhys’ initial predictions, Jack was some nights too tired or achy for sex and more inclined to just want to sleep in the bed with with his companion then have at him. However, some of this was alleviated by sneaking off together during the day for a quick one in one of their trailers or the odd blowjob when no one was looking.

Vaughn spent so much time at Yvette’s trailer by now that he seldom slept in his own anymore. Rhys was happy for them, but mildly jealous for reasons that were not entirely clear to him.

Nonetheless, he enjoyed some pleasant hours of company with his brother and his girlfriend, which happily gave him access to books to fill his quiet hours. Angel, too proved an excellent source for the borrowing of interesting books. Though he did not have his brother’s fervor for nearly constant reading, Rhys did both love and treasure books.

School for the brothers had been erratic at best. They usually got into classes later in the year than the other children, which they had to walk to in the periodically sub zero Chicago winters. They were highly inclined to truancy and fighting on top of that.

Poor, long suffering Maeve had made certain that they knew how to read and write. She truly did her best with her own scant education to make sure her sons were not ignorant. It was lucky for her that Vaughn was gifted with a naturally strong intellect. He had a mind for numbers, letters and the small and secret worlds of science.

Rhys always felt he lacked his brother’s raw intellect, but what he had in spades was ambition and a furious need to show up every bastard teacher, priest or truancy officer that ever told him he was incorrigible and he was going to amount to nothing.

Most of Vaughn’s reading was for pleasure, a means of escaping the glum reality of their existence in worlds where evil almost inevitably failed and right prevailed.

Rhys read to learn. He wanted to learn because he never again wanted to feel like poor gutter trash. If he could employ a good vocabulary and purge his speech of the sayings and words that made him sound unintelligent than know one might ever have to know that he grew up as he did. Between the two brothers keeping each other on their toes, and with the help of a number of older performers they had worked with, they had wound up well read.

As days went on, his admiration for Handsome Jack grew rapidly. The man worked hard, that was for sure. Though he was undoubtedly the big boss man, he was not adverse to heavy lifting if he needed to. He was often gone during the weekdays when they were not on the road as he had to drive into the local towns to do his business. Rhys avoided all questions about hi financial affairs, but the Ringmaster always came back from town with gifts.

Most of the gifts were clothing and shoes, though the odd trinket or box of chocolates found their way to him. Rhys adored watching his wardrobe again grow to a respectable level. He did often remind Jack that he did not require gifts, but he never did refuse them either. For his part, Jack always gave the same refrain, “Don’t worry about my money situation, Kiddo.”

It was the gifts for Vaughn, though, that put a flutter in Rhys’ heart. Handsome Jack had made it a habit to bring his brother gifts as well. First there was a travel ready cage of lovely white doves. Then there were the ascots and waistcoats to change up his look.

Vaughn was entirely pleased and polite about the situation, so much so that Rhys found himself suspicious in time. Then, he started to catch Jack having private conversations with his brother that broke up as soon as he appeared. He did not like it. He also did not like the way he could not tell if Vaughn was lying to him when he insisted that they were merely going over matters of improving his act.

Jack was equally inscrutable when Rhys, narrow eyed, enquired what the pair was up to. With a straight face, an expansive gestures utilizing both hands, and his excitable ringmaster voice that he used when he talked to children he said, “Magic Talk.” Followed by, “You wouldn’t understand, Cupcake.”

He was not jealous per se. He knew his brother adored women and women alone. Still, he did not like the idea of them being so chummy and keeping secrets from him. It started to get under his skin. What got under his skin even more, was when a young, attractive woman appeared on a Thursday morning to interview Jack for a newspaper at her local Women's college.

Jack spent the morning leading her around by her pretty little arm and giving her a grand tour of the circus. The rational part of his mind aware that Jack was just being friendly and inviting. It was all just part of his job of promoting the circus. The rational part lost out to the irrational side when he saw the little blond haired, blue eyed minx kiss his Jack on the cheek.

Rhys was not sure why it caused him to seethe so much inside to see Jack arm in arm with a pretty young woman, but it put an irritation in him that he could not easily let go of. It was like a grain of sand in an oyster and over the day it built up into a shining pearl of resentment.  

Though he was supposed to go to Jack’s that night for dinner and most likely some sexual delights, he made the excuse of illness and stayed in his trailer. Melancholy and alone all night, he ruminated on his relationship with the man.

He knew it was stupid to feel this way. Jack was not his any more than the sun belonged to a farmer. A small seed had nonetheless began to grow in his heart that wanted to believe that he could be loved by this man, that he was in fact being courted by him, which made the way he was feeling all the more terrible. His sleep was restless and he found himself tossing and turning on the narrow bed.

A knock at the door woke him in the morning. “It’s Angel!” came the soft feminine voice from outside the trailer. “Rhys, are you awake? Are you in?”

“Coming… just… a” With no one there for entertainment, he had actually slept in his pajamas. The Contortionist yawned and wiped the drool off the side of his face. “...minute.” He pulled on his robe and stuffed his feet into his slippers.

When opened the door, he saw that the young woman was looking far too cute for this time of day, even though she was wearing simple over alls and a man’s undershirt. “Come in… if you like.”

“Oh no… I really shouldn’t.” She bounced on her feet as she stood and spoke, “I can’t stay. I’m just here because my Dad  would like you to come to breakfast with him,” she said sweetly and smiled up at him with such a pleasant, hopeful demeanor that he felt bad to deliver the bad news.

“I would like to stay in my trailer, so you can tell Jack thanks, but no thanks,” He looked past her at a distant tree so that he might avoid looking at her directly.

Angel’s eyes became round and wide before returning to normal. She started to speak, paused, then she frowned. “Rhys. I am not my Father’s errand girl by choice… and I’m not a telephone. You talk to him or don’t. My work here is done.”

Rhys made a noncommittal grunt.

“What’s the matter with you? Is everything alright?” Freed of proximity from their nocturnal activities, Angel was rather supportive of their growing relationship, so it was unsurprising that she would be interested in any threats to it.

“Everything is fine.” He said, unconvincingly, as he reached up a hand to dislodge the crust of sleep in his eyes with his thumb and forefinger. “I’m just tired.”

Angel left one arm down at her side while grasping its elbow with her other hand. She looked to the big top in the distance with its red, waving flags. She seemed to be working up to something when she said, “He really likes you… I know… he is who he is… but he likes you.”

Rhys laughed, a sad, hollow sound. Speaking without thought, he asked, “What do you even know about anything?” Though it sounded cruel it was not so intended. He meant it as an indictment against himself and his deeply held belief that there was something about him that was either unlovable or unlikely to ever find it. There was silence then as Rhys contemplated that he had insulted her, badly.

“I know a terrified _little_ man when I see one,” she murmured as her eyes slanted back towards him, narrowed, though her head barely moved. “Pleasant day to you, Mr. O’Byrne.” She turned her head towards the chow tent and walked away without waiting for a reply.

Rhys growled at her retreating form before moving inside to grab his key. He locked up the trailer and stalked across the way to Jack’s where he let himself in without knocking.

Jack smiled broadly when he entered from his seat behind the desk, “Good morning, Kitten.” His expression changed as he saw the surly look on Rhys’ face, “Still not feeling well? Should I fetch a doctor?”

“I’m fine, Jack.” Rhys looked down at the man and at once made a decision. Now that he had convinced himself that this was inevitably going to end badly for one or both of them, he decided he might as well get it over with now. He said, coldly, “Look, this has been really great and all… but… honestly... what the hell are we even doing?”

Jack looked confused, his head tilting ever so slightly to one side, “I was hoping… breakfast together?”

Rhys could not make himself look at him “Not Breakfast… this… us. I need you to stop… just stop everything. I can’t do this anymore… and I’m sorry. I just can’t.”

Jack’s face changed as he listened to Rhys’ words.  “What… are you saying to me?” His brow furrowed and he looked wary, “Just spit it out like a man, kiddo. Don’t try to fuckin’ let me down gently. I can handle it. You’re done with me? That it? Wham, bam, ‘thanks but no thanks’ Jack?”

Rhys shrugged one shoulder, “Yes. You said it yourself. I’m a _prosty_ . What did you think was going to happen? I let you fuck me so I wouldn’t starve.” _It’s better this way_ , he promised himself.  “That’s all.”

Jack’s head shook from side to side as he stared at the contortionist. “Un-be-fucking-lievable, Rhys.” Like a switch was flipped in side him, Jack went cold. “Well, I guess _you_ should get your _whore_ ass out of my trailer.” He pointed to the door. “And don’t think you can cut an run from me now, because after all the _fucking_ money I put into you, you can at least have the decency to stick around and make me some some of it back.”

Rhys turned away and said, “I’m _trash_ , Jack. What do you expect? Vallory’s tigers could more easily change their stripes than I can being who I am… but I told you I appreciated everything and I meant it. I won’t leave your employ unless you tell me to.”

Jack’s face had gone into an ugly flush and both hands were gripping the edge of his desk like it was all that was stopping him from flying into a rage. When he spoke, the sarcasm in his voice was not enough to keep out that sliver of pain, “Whatever helps you sleep at night, Kiddo… Now get the fuck out before I throw you out on your bony fucking ass.”

Saying nothing, Rhys left and pulled the door closed behind him on the way out. He was walking back to his trailer, quickly, when he heard the sound of glasses shattering as they were swept off of Jack’s bar.

Vaughn came into the trailer midway through the day to find his brother lying in his bed, drinking. He moved to sit on the edge of the bed, while removing the jar of Scooter’s family moonshine from his brother’s hand and setting it aside. “What is going on with you, Rhys? Did you really… tell Jack off? That’s what Yvette heard from Angel… do we need to leave?” He looked distraught at the prospect of having to go when they had just only become so at home.

“No,” Rhys said blearily, “He wants us to stay… to make him money.” He kept one eye open so he could focus on his brother better.

Vaughn’s face turned to relief, but only for a moment before his concern for his brother brought a fresh wave of anxiety, “What happened Did he hurt you?”

“Nothing happened… it was just time.” Rhys said, as though it were perfectly natural for a relationship to have a natural end point. He slurred out something about being a distraction.

“If it was just time why are you drinking?” The illusionist wrinkled his nose at the smell, “... whatever this is? On a show day! We have to perform in seven hours. Have you even eaten anything today?  You weren’t at breakfast.”

A hand flapped in Vaughn’s direction as Rhys said, “I’ll be fine.”

Vaughn frowned and grabbed his brother around the middle to physically drag him out of his bed. “Come on… You need to make yourself throw up… and I’m going to bring you water and food.”

“I’m fine… leave me alone… Erruuuuurp.” As soon as he was hauled up around his middle he threw up moonshine all over the rug. There was nothing else in his stomach.

“Aurghhhhh, Rhys….” Vaughn held on to him so he didn’t fall. When he seemed done he gently set him back on the bed and bent down to pick up the rug carefully so he could run it out of the trailer and throw it on the ground. He returned to take the remainder of the jar of moonshine from his brother’s reach, “You … just lay there.”

With a pitcher of water and a tray of dry toast, Vaughn returned and spent the afternoon feeding Rhys and made him drink water until he was somewhat more human. Though he tried, he could get nothing more out of his brother as to what happened. He bid him to go back to sleep after that and only woke him up in time to get ready for the show.

At the show that night Jack seemed, perhaps, a bit drunk himself, but he was a professional and managed to do his job well in spite of it. It wasn’t like he hadn’t said the words all before.

Rhys had to fight the urge to throw up, his terrible headache, and the desire to cry at just seeing Jack there looking so handsome. He could barely stand the way Jack refused to look at him, even when introducing him.

When he was done performing, Vaughn sent him to his trailer and told him just to stay there. For once, he listened and opted to throw himself into his bed again, have a emotional breakdown where he sobbed into his pillow, and fell asleep.

The next day was even more miserable and being Saturday there would be two shows. Vaughn brought him breakfast again so he would not have to brave the chow tent. He assured him that no one, with the exception of probably Jack and possibly Angel, was angry at him. This may or may not have been true, as Rhys could periodically hear the Ringmaster bellowing his commands with more fury in his voice than usual and surely there would doubtless be those who would be angry at him knowing his ill temper was all the contortionists fault.

The Saturday shows both went off without a hitch. Jack continued to avoid speaking to or looking at Rhys, but that was fine by him as he was having trouble doing the same. He had to keep insisting to himself repeatedly that he had made the correct decision for both of them. Jack may not have understood that in the moment, but Rhys was sure he would come around and be reasonable.

After the shows were done he slunk off to the bathing area to wash up and put on his pajamas and robe before returning to his lonely trailer to spend the night alone.

When Rhys arrived, it was to find a man was a man leaning against the trailer. He was dressed decently in an ugly though well kept up brown suit. The man was bald on top with thick brown sideburns and goatee without moustache. His eyes were a pale green and held a hint of malice even though they were placid.

Rhys approached him and drawled, “Well… Good evening, might I help you?”

The man looked him up and down and all the way back up again, undressing him with his eyes. He said with a casual tone that betrayed just a bit of sinister intention. “I liked your show. I was hoping… that I might come on in with you for a bit… and you might give me your... autograph.” He licked his lips unsubtly, “I could even pay you for it.”

Rhys had guessed where this train was heading far before it reached the station. Any other night in the past few weeks before tonight and he would have said a most emphatic ‘No’. Tonight he was too raw, too angry and too desperate to assert himself as his own person who needed no one and no thing. He also wanted the money. It would help him do the decent thing and pay back Jack some of the money he had spent on him during their time together.

Rhys opened the door, entered the trailer, and held it open to wave the man in, “Do come inside.” When they had both entered the locked was flipped. He stepped up behind the man and reached up to put his hands on his shoulders, “Can I take your jacket?” He asked.

The man nodded as he surveyed the small lodgings. He let Rhys pull off his overcoat and hang it on a hook. “What’s your charge?” The man asked gruffly.

“It depends on what you want,” Rhys said with a silken voice. His eyes wandered down to the man’s tented trousers and then back up to his face. Neither handsome nor ugly, Rhys weighed the pros and cons of taking the man to his bed.

“I know you’re gonna be expensive, Pretty Boy. I ain’t stupid… I wanna see a little of your bending up close… put my dick in your mouth… and fuck you until you can’t remember your own name.”

Rhys’ eyes widened considerably, “Oh well... darling.” He shrugged out of his robe and hung it up on another hook. “Fifteen dollars and your wish is my command. If that’s too steep...”

The man walked up to him and roughly stuck his thumb into the contortionist’s mouth before saying, “Nah. I got it… I want you on your knees, kitty cat. We’ll figure it out from there.”

Rhys sucked on the man’s thumb for a moment, though it repulsed him more than a little, before he sank down to one knee. The other followed after and he settled back on his heels. His long arms lifted as the stranger stepped up close to him, looking down on him. He looked up briefly into the man’s eyes and then lowered them again as he unfastened the man’s pants.

Just as he was tugging down the front of the man’s boxers there was the loud crash as the door was violently kicked in and Handsome Jack’s enormous hands were wrapped around the man’s neck before he had even fully been able to turn at the commotion. He had a wild look in his eye and  was dressed in just his work Jodhpurs, suspenders, and a white undershirt.

Jack’s mismatched eyes blazed as he started to squeeze the stranger's neck forcefully, “You come into _my_ circus… and you try to fucking touch what’s _mine_ ? Oh, Buddy, you _fucked up_. Real bad.”

The john’s hands flew to his throat to try to pry the fingers strangling him off, but Jack was strong and had the advantage.  

Rhys scrambled to his feet, desperate to stop this, “Jack! No! Let him go!”

Jack looked to Rhys, distracted enough by him that the stranger nailed him in the gut with a hard elbow. If the Ringmaster had not been inebriated he might have been able to maintain the upper hand, but he fell back against the wall, losing his grip on the man’s neck.

The john was quick and sober. Turning quickly, he punched out with a wicked right hook and nailed handsome Jack straight in the jaw.

Rhys was terrified, though less for himself at this moment than for Jack. He looked around for something he might be able to use as a weapon to help the Ringmaster, but nothing was readily at hand.

Jack recovered and quickly found an advantage to end the fight. He was backed up against the wall opposite to the door, which was now open. As the john was now standing in front of it, the Ringmaster pushed off the wall and threw all his weight into the man to push him. The bald man was sent which sent flying out the door and down the few stairs of the trailer to drop on his back on the ground below. Jack wasted no time grabbing his coat off the hook and throwing it after him, growling, “I ever see you anywhere around my circus again, I’ll _kill_ you.”

With that, like the man were no longer even there, Jack turned on Rhys. His heterochromatic eyes were full of such wounded anger that Rhys started to back away. “Jack… please…” Now that he no longer was afraid for Jack, it seemed appropriate now to be afraid of him.

“What the _hell_ Rhys! You need to tell me, _right now_ , what the _hell_  did I  _ever_  do to deserve _this_?” Jack began to advance on him slowly. As he passed the window, Rhys could see Finch and Kroger, their faces still terrifying in their clown makeup,  were picking the man up off the ground. With his terror intensified, he backed through the curtain and hurried for the drawer that contained his silver pen knife. Hands trembling, he opened it up the blade just as Jack threw the curtain aside.

“You owe me a Goddamned explanation!” Jack said, his voice raising. His eyes went wide in surprise however when Rhys lunged at him with knife.

Jack tried to dodge the attack but Rhys was quicker and before he could say anything more he was held back by Rhys against the wall with the knife at his throat.

“You don’t _own_ me!” Rhys shrieked, his voice rough and hysterical, his hands trembling as he looked into the other man’s eyes. “No one _owns_ me!”

The Ringmaster stood still, the point of the knife sharp against his throat, even more dangerous for Rhys’ uncontrollably shaking hand.

“You wanted to know, Jack… you wanted to know about my _Goddamned eye_ ? How I lost it? It was because of some drunken, _miserable_ , violent bastard who thought he _owned_ my mother,” he spat out the words. “He popped it out with a small knife… Just like this one.”

The knife dug in and a trickle of blood leaked from Jack’s neck but he stayed still, his odd eyes staring into Rhys’ own as he listened, chiseled jaw clenched tight.  

Rhys gave a dark, nervous peal of unexpected laughter, “He… he didn’t like the way I was looking at him when I walked in on him… on top of her. I was s-s-supposed to get her for dinner.” His lips pulled back from his teeth in a grimace, “I tried to stop him from hurting her… I tried so hard… but I was so, so small… and he took my neck in his hand and he just put it out like a light.” Rhys spat as he talked, flecks of saliva going right into Jack’s face but the man never once flinched. He barely blinked.

The furious hysteria on Rhys’ red face started to falter as tears welled up in his eyes, blurring his vision, “He would have done the other… but she… she… flew on him… she clawed at him… screaming… and he… stabbed her… over… and over... and over...” The knife slackened and fell from Rhys’ grip entirely as he felt himself growing faint while he confronted a memory he kept so carefully buried.

Jack’s caught him in his strong, bare arms as he slumped. Rhys was pulled up close to him to take him the few steps over to the bed so he could set him down while sitting down beside him.

Rhys clung to him, lost for the moment to long, unprocessed grief; his face pressed against the larger man’s shoulder as he bitterly wept tears he had kept in for a long, long time.

Jack started to rub a slow circle on back, vowing quietly, “I wasn’t going to hurt you…I’m sorry Rhys. I just… wanted to know why.”

A secondary commotion occurred outside as Vaughn could be heard snarling, “Let me go, Kroger, or I swear on the blessed virgin I will _end_ you!”

Kroger’s laugh in response was a cut short when Jack bellowed, “Let Him Through!”  

Vaughn’s footsteps were heavy as he ran through the trailer and into the back room, panting. “What happened?” He demanded of Jack. “What did you do to him?!” After noticing the trail of blood on Jack's neck he said, “What did he do to you? Oh Rhys…” He moved to Rhys’ other side, his hands going to his brother’s shoulders.

“It’s my fault,”  Jack grumbled softly, still rubbing his massive hand up and down Rhys’ back.

Before Vaughn could press for details, Angel cautiously pulled back the curtain and stepped inside. She said to her father, accusatory, “What did you do to him?”

“Nothing!” Jack protested, “Alright, I screwed up… but I’m the one bleeding. He…” He looked at Vaughn, “He told me… about his mother… and almost collapsed.”

Vaughn murmured quietly, “Hell.”

Angel’s voice was dour as she spoke, “You’re drunk, aren’t you?! Leave Mr. O’Byrne alone and come with me, right now!” Angel’s small hands grabbed her father by the arm and pulled, “I’m so sorry about this,” she spoke, mostly to Vaughn as Rhys was beyond speech.

Jack swallowed hard and leaned his mouth close to Rhys’ ear and murmured, “Sorry, Kiddo. I’ll leave you alone from now on.” He reluctantly peeled the sobbing, shaking man off of him and turned him into the arms of his smaller brother before rising to leave.

Though he was threatening him with a knife moments ago, Rhys was reluctant to let the ringmaster go, but he let the man remove his arms and turn him to face his brother.

As Angel took Jack by the arm and lead him out, she angrily continued to question him, “Did you kick the door in? And what was going on with that man Finch was dragging out? What did you do to Rhys?”

Vaughn pulled up a sheet from the bed and wrapped it around his brother tightly, swaddling him up like a baby. From his sleeve he produced a handkerchief and he dabbed at Rhys’ nose with it. “Shh shhh, brother, I know.”

Rhys was gently urged to lay down after a while, and Vaughn stroked his hair until sleep fell over him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Title comes from the Supertramp song “If Everyone Was Listening.” 
> 
> Check it out! Fishkybuns of Tumblr drew this hilarious Arrested Development / Ringmaster mash up comic: http://www.fishkybuns.com/post/142766936573/for-mandaocity-and-their-circus-au-after-a#notes
> 
> Bonus points to you if you can tell what TFTBL character Jack was trying to strangle!


	14. Two Fools of a Kind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Circus descends into rumors and unease as the Ringmaster and Contortionist both become reclusive following the events of Saturday night.

When Rhys awoke he was facing the wall of the trailer, laying on his side in the bed wrapped in sheets. He took a deep breath that filled his lungs with air and expelled it all, slowly. There was light coming from the kerosene lamp. A shadow in the light indicated the presence of a person behind him. He didn’t want them to know he was awake so he attempted to shut his eyes again.

“Rhys… are you awake?” Vaughn’s voice was soft and sleepy.

Rhys turned in bed to look up at his brother, only to find he could not make himself speak.

Vaughn was awake, regardless of how late or early it was. He had pulled in one of the chairs from the other room and was now seated upon it, holding one of Yvette’s pulp magazines. “Brother… do you need anything? Anything at all?”

Rhys turned back to face the wall and covered his head with the sheet.

“Everything… is okay.” The illusionists somnolent voice had a gentleness to it like that of a parent speaking to a worried child, “The door will be fixed in the morning… and I’ll keep you safe so you can sleep.”

“You don’t have to stay.” Rhys murmured from underneath the sheet shroud.  

“It’s four… fifty, Rhys. Where else am I going to go?” Vaughn yawned out the last part. “I’m not going to wake Yvette… and you need me.”

Rhys pressed himself against the wall, still facing it, like an invitation.  

“Tsk. I couldn’t sleep if I wanted to, brother. Please… just… be comfortable and rest.”

“Please, come?” the sheet pleaded.

Vaughn sighed and though he was still wearing the clothes he had on last night he eased into the bed behind his brother and put an arm around him. “Of course, dear brother. You’re … alright physically, right? No one’s hurt you?”

“Yeah, I’m ok,” his voice was barely above a whisper.

Vaughn exhaled loudly and gave Rhys a squeeze. “You don’t … have to tell me what happened… you don’t have to say anything… but I’m always here for your burdens… They’re mine too.”

Rhys slid a hand out of the sheet to gently stroke the arm tight around his midsection. “Everything… should have been better for us, Vaughn. Our whole lives. One man’s… selfishness cost us everything. Do you… do you even remember before… before… when we still had her?”

“Just… just barely…” Vaughn admitted, his eyes closing. “I remember being happy… and then… for a long time… it was so hard.”

“It’s not fair… none of it.”  

“No… it’s really not.” Vaughn murmured and then was silent.

In time, Rhys could be heard snoring softly under the sheet but true to his word his brother stayed awake until Scooter came in the morning and fixed the door for them.

Vaughn brought his brother breakfast but Rhys refused to eat anything or to talk more than he had in the middle of the night. All he seemed to want to do is sleep, or pretend to sleep.

Rhys left the bed a couple times to answer the call of nature that day, but beyond that he merely lay there.

The Ringmaster was similarly hunkered down in his trailer and both Angel and Vaughn passed an anxious day hovering about the trailer of their respective family members in an attempt to be helpful.

On Monday, Jack’s booming voice was conspicuously absent from the chaotic affair that was pulling up stakes. In its place was Angel doing her best to tell the men to pack it up and pick up the pace about it, but she lacked her father’s gravitas, ability to project, and disregard for most people’s feelings. Still, she was well beloved enough that the roustabouts worked hard anyway.

Vaughn did his best to pick up his brother’s slack in getting them ready for the road. As he filled their trailer with cages of rabbits and doves he tried to get Rhys up and moving but had no luck.

Even though it was not the safest of options, Rhys stayed hidden in the trailer even as they traveled, though that meant a hot day on the road in a trailer packed away nervous bunnies and birds.

It was quietly noted in some circles that Jack was not even bothering to drive himself. Angel drove the yellow Studebaker while her father just sat in the passenger seat and chain smoked his hand rolled cigarettes.

To say that this state of affairs was disconcerting to the people of the Bartelli Brother's Circus was a grand understatement. As no one knew what had actually happened speculation ran wild.

Finch and Kroger, either valuing their employer’s good graces or fearing his wrath, would not even admit that they were involved in anything, in spite of witnesses to the contrary.  

Vaughn did his best to try to get his brother to eat and take care of himself, but Rhys plead that he just needed a little time and space. Vaughn reluctantly gave it, and continued to do his best to do the necessary work for both of them.

Rhys remained reclusive in his trailer. He caught a glimpse of Jack here and there as necessities forced him to occasionally leave his place of solitude. Jack would not look at nor speak to him, which hurt Rhys terribly, but he could not blame the man.

On Wednesday morning, he woke up feeling mildly nauseated. Everything seemed to smell terrible and he just wanted some fresh air. He threaded his way quickly through the tents and trailers to the field of green grass out behind the camp. The farther he got, the more he began to feel dizzy and anxious. His limbs became tremulous and he could feel himself starting to sweat in spite of the mildness of the morning.

Then there was nothing. When he awoke it was to Vallory’s heavily scarred face looking down on him while kneeling next to him. She took him by his chin with her large hand and tilted his head slightly. “Rhys… boy! Can you hear me?” Her other hand gave soft little smack to his cheek.

Rhys groaned faintly and blinked several times, “Yeah… I… don’t know… what…”

She was looking into his single eye searchingly as she said, “How long has it been since you haf eaten?”

Rhys admitted, “I don’t… know…” All he did know was that he did not feel hungry.

August banged his way out of the trailer door with a mug of water in hand and jogged over to his mother’s side to hand it over to her.

She looked up at him and said, “Bring some of the cake. Be quick about it, Son.”

August’s eyes narrowed, “Shouldn’t ve be getting a doctor? Cake isn’t medicine, Ma.”

Whatever she said in German had August running on double time back into the trailer.

In the meantime, the tall woman slid an arm under Rhys’ shoulders and helped him to a sitting position.

“Take a sip of this,” She said, as she tilted the mug up to his lips.

He swallowed a little bit and licked his lips, and then drank some more.

August reappeared holding a small plate with a big slice of some sort of yellow poppy seed cake and a small silver fork.

“Can you sit up on your own, Rhys?”

He straightened up, “Yeah… I think… I don’t feel good…”

“I know… you have to try to eat a little... “ She set the mug down in the grass and reached up to take the plate from her son before dismissing him with a few sentences in their native tongue.

“On it,” the tall blonde man affirmed before jogging off.

Vallory cut the cake with the side of the fork before stabbing it with the middle, “Open your mouth.”

Rhys twisted his lips and turned his face away.

“Ve can do this easy… or ve can to this hard, boy.” Vallory said, her voice having an edge to it that did not allow for dissent, “Make up your mind because either vay you _are_ eating this.”

He gave in and opened his mouth and she wasted no time in putting the fork into his mouth. He ate the bite of cake, though it felt uncomfortable to chew and swallow.   

Vallory picked up the cup and held it to his lips to get him to drink again.

He did his best to cooperate and without saying anything more she proceeded to feed him the entire piece of cake. That done, she regained her feet, bent down, and picked him up.

“What are you doing? Stop...” Rhys protested feebly as she lifted him like he were nothing.

Ignoring him, she carried him to her trailer and up the stairs inside. Her trailer was tidy and homey, its walls covered in photos of herself and August over the years. She settled him down on the elegant, dark blue sofa that stretched out in the main room of her trailer.

It seemed better not to struggle so he let her move him where she wished. When he was settled she got up to get him more water. “You are not taking care of yourself, Rhys.” She said, her voice having a dour, motherly quality to it.

Rhys didn’t reply. Though he was starting to feel a little better but the gross weak feeling persisted.

“I vould like you to answer me.” She said as she came to stand before him and look down upon his seated form.

Rhys looked down at his hands and couldn’t find any words to offer her.

“I refuse to let you succumb to melancholy, Rhys. It simply cannot happen. Idelle and Maeve vere like sisters to me at a very, very bad time in my life… and in a very good time of my life. I vill not let you dishonor their memory… their sacrifices by throwing avay your life.” She sat down next to him.

“I’m sorry,” Rhys said in a quiet voice as he took the mug from her hands and lifted it to his lips.

“I don’t think you should perform this veek. I vill tell Jack so, und he vill agree vith me. He is… already vorried for you.”

Rhys exhaled and said with longing heavy in his tone, “He hasn’t come to see me.”

She folded her arms over her breasts and admonished “What a foolish boy, you are. He is doing this for _you_. He told me you cast him off und he made promises he von’t interfere vith you anymore. Isn’t that vhat you vanted? Your freedom? He said you vere angry because he made you speak about your mother. Your brother says you almost never speak of her. That you cannot bear it.”

Rhys’ teeth clenched tightly and set the mug aside on a low table that was bolted against the wall.

“She vas your mother Rhys… It must be… a terrible memory… but you are letting it rob you of the only comfort ve haf in dealing vith this loss… and that is sharing the memory of that person vith the people who knew them.”

Rhys swallowed and took a few deep breaths, wringing his hands together with a sad, lost expression on his face. “My brother… he talks to you… about her?”

“Oh yes… and his own.” She replied, more kindly now. “There are things he vished to know, and I haf shared vith him many recollections.”

August returned with a plate of eggs and toast, “Hey…” He looked at Rhys uncertainly and then his mother. He set the plate down on the table before saying, “I got other stuff I gotta do. Can I, uh, go, Ma?”

Vallory said, “Danke, August. You may go.”

The blonde left as soon as he came and soon they were alone again.

“You need to eat more,” The beast tamer spoke in a voice that made it clear she would tolerate no disobedience. “Do you need me to help you to the table?”

“No…” Rhys shook his head and slowly pushed himself up and walked the few steps over to the table to sit. “I’d… like to know… what you’ve told Vaughn,” he said as he picked up the fork from the plate.

Vallory rose as well and joined him at the little table, taking her flask off of her hip to sip a little Sunday morning alcohol before settling into tell Rhys stories he never imagined in his life that he would hear.

*    *    *    *    *   

Rhys was, as it happened, benched from performing on this particular weekend after the doctor was called at Jack’s insistence to examine him.

The doctor declared the contortionist just to be suffering from exhaustion and prescribed nothing but rest and that he ought not skip any more meals.  Vaughn became an unholy nag on that front, making sure Rhys ate while he watched for the next several meals.

Vaughn was the best company and he took as much time as he could to spend by Rhys’ side, feeling guilty for having neglected him and letting him get to the point where he was so weak.

Tentatively, at first, the older brother started to talk to his sibling about the things they had both learned from Vallory about their mothers.

Vaughn, freed from his enforced silence on the subject eagerly spoke back with years of pent up questions coming out in a flood.

In time, though tears were shed by both brothers, the act of cultivating his memories of his mother and learning new things about her began to ease some of that deep rooted pain that only ever festered when ignored. It seemed Vaughn was in as dire a need to have these conversations as Rhys was. He felt no small amount of regret that he had let twenty years go on while he denied his brother the opportunity to speak about something that affected the course of his life every bit as much as it had Rhys’.

His diagnosis of exhaustion did give him an excuse to stay hidden in his trailer.  Rhys at least made sure that books were brought in so that he could entertain himself. Now that he was officially listed as ill, he began to accept visitors.

Vallory stopped by to see him a few times and he found that she was a comforting presence for all her intimidating appearance. August, too, occasionally stopped by. He was not an incredibly talkative sort, but he would bring playing cards and entertain Rhys with various games he knew. On one occasion he brought Fiona and Sasha and the game that ensued was fun enough to temporarily lift his mind from his weighty thoughts.

Angel arrived on Sunday morning bearing square parcel that looked like it had gone through the U.S. Postal Service. She had kept a good distance from him and they had not spoken since the previous Saturday night. “Mr. O’Byrne.” She looked up at him as he stood back to let her in.

“Miss Angel.” He said as he stood back, glad he chose today to shave and put on actual clothing like something other than the invalid he no longer was. “Please… come in.”

She strode up into the trailer and moved to sit at the small, round table where she set the parcel down.

As she settled Rhys willed himself to stay calm and collected about this, but as he took his place across from her he could not contain himself from leaning far forward and saying desperately, “Is he okay?”

Angel sighed and looked down at the box. “He’s okay… This…” She tapped the top of the box with a finger, “Is a present for you. It was to be for your birthday. But he wants to give it to you now… and he would very much like your permission to come in and speak to you about it.”

Rhys nodded, eagerly, “Please… tell him to come.” With a pained expression he looked up at her, “Angel, I’m sorry... for everything.”

Angel’s voice was kind, “We’ll talk soon, alright?” She reached across the table and put her hand over his. “I’m sorry I have not come sooner. He… needed me.”

Rhys nodded again and looked up at her, trying not to look as nervous as he now felt, “Or course. Thank you… I’ll… wait for him.”

Angel stood, leaving the box in front of her chair. She bent down and gave Rhys a quick hug. “Good bye for now, Rhys.” After a kiss to his cheek, she let herself out.

Rhys expected to have to wait a few minutes but Jack was clearly lurking outside the whole time. His heart started to beat faster as he saw the man and heard his booted feet thump up the few stairs and step inside without so much as asking if Rhys was ready for him.

He was dressed in pale gray slacks with a blue, white, and yellow vertically striped dress shirt. It’s sleeves were rolled up to the elbows to expose his hairy forearms.  Over this was a plain, gray waistcoat that was fitted perfectly. Finally, he wore a pale yellow tie. His expression was uncharacteristically nervous, “Heeeey Rhysie…I know I promised you… that I would leave you be.”

Rhys shook his head from side to side, “I don’t care! Jack, I’m sorry!” He got to his feet and opened his arms to throw them around Jack.

Jack caught him by the shoulders and kept him at arm’s length, though it looked like it hurt him to do so.

Rhys dropped his arms and his face reddened in shame. He should have known better then to think he could just be held again after everything that had passed.

“Pumpkin… I am… _so_ happy to see you… but so help me… if you press up against me right now I’m going to wanna tear off your clothes and throw you on the bed and after everything… that’s... probably not a great idea.”   

Rhys could tell from the way he smelled and looked that he was completely sober. He pulled back from the man and went to sit at the table, his brow furrowing, “I’m sorry… for hurting you.”

Jack settled into the chair across from him and said gruffly, “I’m sorry I… went off… half cocked… That guy isn’t dead, so you know. Finch just… sent him off.” Jack started awkwardly. He fidgeted with his tie.

“How… did you know?” Rhys asked quietly. “You broke in… with back up… how did you know?”

Jack sighed, “People tell me things they _think_ I wanna know… I wasn’t… having you spied on… but I was drinking… and I was angry… and...” His shoulders shrugged, “I didn’t have the right… but you gotta know I wasn’t going to hurt you. I just wanted to know what the hell I did that was _so_ wrong that you… you wanted to stab me in the gut like that.”

Rhys hung his head, “Angel told me… that you liked me… and I… was mad … about that… college girl kissing you…”

Jack scoffed, “You were mad about _that_ ? Oh, Rhys. _Christ_ you’re funny.”

Rhys pursed his lips and tried to explain, “She was pretty… and young… and she obviously liked you… I mean, what can you do with _me_ ? You date women. I don’t want to just be thrown over for some socially acceptable, _educated_ , woman.”

Jack squinted and said, “Do you honestly think that I care about what’s socially acceptable? Look. In public, I do… for our _safety_. But we’re nomads! We’re showmen! What we do these months out of a year… no one gives a damn as long as we entertain their stupid asses when we come through. I don’t know what kind of playboy you assume I am… but I haven’t been with anyone other than you in three fucking years, Rhysie. Not since my girl Nisha died.”

Rhys didn’t know what to do with that information. He stammered out some words, “I’ve never… been with anyone… I mean sex, yeah. I’ve … done that a lot… but I’ve never had a real… this… I’ve never done whatever… we were doing… before.”

“You’ve never… had a boyfriend?” Jack looked at him in surprise. “Seriously… That would explain a lot. I mean I haven’t either… but I had a wife… girlfriends. It’s a weird thing… relationships… but … I didn’t come here to try to get you back… though  I… miss the hell out of you,” he admitted in breathy voice.

“I miss you too,” Rhys said quietly as he laced his fingers together on the table.

“You know I kinda pride myself on being intimidating… but I’m sorry I scared you. That I made you think you needed to… defend yourself from me. Still, I was proud of you for standing up for yourself.” Abruptly he turned his face away and shook his head, “Fuck!” he exclaimed. “I’m sorry I made you think of that son of a bitch who took your Mother. You’ve been through a lot... ”

Rhys reached across the table and took one of Jack’s big hands in both of his. “I panicked. Then and when I … told you I didn’t want to see you. I just… I don’t want to be hurt.”

Jack turned to face him again with a vulnerability in his mismatched eyes that Rhys had only seen glimpses of before. “I can’t promise… that I won’t hurt you… your heart. I’m… not really good at … emotional… stuff. But I swear I won’t hurt you. I’ll… I can try to cut down on drinking… if that will help… if it’ll make you feel safer.”

Rhys bit his lower lip before he said, “Why… Why me? What do I even… give you except… my body?”

“Hell… the sex was it at first… sure… but … I like the way you rub out my back… I think you’re funny, in your lippy, smart ass way. You got good taste in things. I don’t know, Kiddo, I just like you. In spite of all your old man jokes you make me feel… younger.” After a pause he said, “Aren’t you… even a little curious… about this…” He reached over with his free hand and nudged the box closer to the younger man.

“Well…” Rhys looked at it, “I am… I never told you my birthday was coming up.”

Jack grinned faintly, “It’s one of the few things I could get out of Vaughn. I tried so hard to get him to tell me about,” he gestured vaguely to Rhys’ blue eye. “He was locked up tighter than Alcatraz.”

Rhys smiled lopsidedly, “Should I open it?”.

Jack laid a hand over the lid of the box. “Yeah … but I don’t want it to make you feel… compelled to come back to me.”

“I want to… I’ve wanted to talk to you all week I just… I didn’t… I had to spend… a lot of time… thinking… but I’d like to try again… if you… still do.”

Jack nodded solemnly. “Yeah. I do, kitten.” He looked worried as he lifted his hand from the box and pushed it closer to Rhys. “I just want you to want it too.”

“I do…” He put his long fingers on the lid of the box and carefully slid it open. He could feel Jack just staring at him and there was a little thrill of anticipation at what gift Jack would be so excited to give.

He blinked in confusion when the box held a sequined headband with a feather plume on it. He lifted it up and looked at it. Underneath was a photograph of a young woman with short, wavy hair standing on her hands while she did the splits. Held firmly in each of her slippered feet was a glass or crystal candelabra. She was wearing a small, skimpy dark colored two piece outfit that showed off her long, slender body. With a smile on her face she was doing a sassy little wink at the camera. In her nose and eyes, she looked so much like Rhys that in spite of the heat he was riddled with goose bumps nearly instantly. One hand reached up to cover his mouth as his watering eyes went to Jack. From behind his hand came just one word, “How?”

Jack exhaled, “Full disclosure, kiddo… I used to date this chick… Moxxie… She’s actually Scooters mom. Uh… I am not his father though, just… so that’s clear… anyway... She’s retired now but she was in the business a number of years and she knows a lot of people who know a lot of people. So shortly after we met, I sent her a telegram to see if she could… you know… find something. You told me… you didn’t remember what she looked like… well… that’s it.”  He leaned forward and took out another photo from behind the first and set it on top, “Mox wrote that this should be one of them together…”

The second photo was of Idelle and Maeve together. Rhys recognized his other mother easily even though she was much younger here. Maeve was a good foot shorter then her tall partner and had her arm flung tight around her waist. They were both smiling big bright smiles.

Rhys flew out of his chair and lunged into Jack’s arms. Jack caught him up easily and squeezed him. He could not vocalize his thanks through the enormous sob that was breaking free from his chest.

Jack settled Rhys in his lap and said, “You’re welcome, kiddo.”

He could say no more because, through his tears, Rhys was pressing his lips to his so hard and so desperately against Jack’s that speech was no longer possible.

Before it could get too heated Jack gently pulled himself back, “Rhys… Rhys… Hey… Why don’t… I go… fetch your brother… he should probably see these too.”

Rhys sniffled before he nodded and blotted his wet face on the sleeve of his shirt.

“And maybe a little later… we’ll talk… some more… get some food… and just see how it goes…”

Rhys reluctantly got off of his lap after hugging him tightly around his neck. He wordlessly went back to the table and picked up the photographs to look at them again. “I won’t…” he sniffled, “...ever forget this.”

Jack smiled as he rose to his feet, “No obligations, alright? I’m just… glad I could help. I’ll see you… later, okay?”

Rhys touched the old feather on the headband. “Okay.”

With a wink, Jack turned and left Rhys alone with the box of memories.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look, guys, I joined 1994 and learned some basic html!
> 
> This week's Chapter Title and partial inspiration for this fic comes from the great Australian band Hunters and Collectors 1990 song "The Way You Live." [Clicky!](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=X8A8ocuhocw/)
> 
> You guys are the best and kindest people. I have gotten so much niceness and feedback. I have also gotten a shit ton of screaming in my general direction. :D I love all of it. 
> 
> oblivion-is-destiny posted this awesome illustration of last week's chapter: [Clicky!](http://sinesthero.tumblr.com/post/143037465279/oblivion-is-destiny-you-dont-own-me-rhys/)
> 
> Fishkybuns posted this hilarious Blands/Ringmaster/Arrested Development crossover comic: [Clicky!](http://www.fishkybuns.com/post/142766936573/for-mandaocity-and-their-circus-au-after-a#notes/)
> 
> Dappio posted this fabulous picture of the Brothers O'Byrne: [Clicky!](http://sinesthero.tumblr.com/post/143204058069/dappio-i-spent-a-whole-night-catching-up-with/)


	15. Brotherhood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vaughn and Rhys spend some time together before the illusionist decides to give the Ringmaster a piece of his mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a bit of a short chapter. It's from Vaughn's perspective for a little bit of a change of pace.

The week had been as Rough on Vaughn as it had on Rhys though for different reasons. Beyond working himself until he was bone tired to make up for his brother’s inactivity and the endless anxieties about the man’s condition, it was difficult to see Rhys so vulnerable.

For most of his life, save for those awful first couple of years after their mother was murdered, Rhys had been like a force of nature. In Vaughn’s young mind he was dashing and tough, never one to take any guff from anyone, excepting of course Mama. He always quick to stand up for small, awkward Vaughn be it to neighborhood tuffs, teachers, and sometimes even Mama.

The illusionist never forgot the occasion when he had nicked some cigarettes from the corner store and made the mistake of trying to smoke one in their cold, dingy flat while mama was out. Of course, in hindsight, it was stupid to think he could just blow the smoke out the window and no one would be any the wiser. In his panic, when he realized the smell of smoke would not go away, he had gone to his Rhys and begged him desperately for help in getting himself out of the jam.

Rhys had slapped him upside the head, mildly before telling him he was an idiot, but not to worry. He took the cigarettes and matches and bid Vaughn to scrub his hands and brush his teeth. By the time Mama returned, Rhys was leaning against the wall, cool as a cucumber, smoking like he was a film star.

Later, when Rhys was recovering from the epic ass whipping Mama had promptly administered; Vaughn attempted to offer him all of his Earthly possessions to try to make up for his act of bravery in quite literally saving his ass. Though by right of brotherly law Rhys could have laid claim to all of Vaughn’s baseball cards and baubles, or at the very least any desserts for months to come, he magnanimously just told his little brother never to do anything so obviously stupid again.

Because of this and many other memories of Rhys’ larger than life bravado, it was especially terrible to see him so down. The few occasions in recent memory where he had seen him this distraught, this out of control, were few and far between. Rockford, of course, was the worst.

He recalled, with agony, seeing his brother battered and weak from the beating and strangulation he had taken from that vile, violent man. It was followed by weeks he spent hidden in his trailer, unable to perform for his bruised face and broken arm.

It hurt him unbelievably to be able to do nothing for his brother’s pain and sorrows. Thus, he was incredibly cautious when the Ringmaster approached him in the chow tent to inform him of the matter of the photographs.

He ran all the way back to their shared trailer as soon as Jack advised that he may wish to ‘look after’ Rhys.

Rhys was still seated at the table, sniffling into a handkerchief when Vaughn quietly let himself in. He beckoned him closer, “You’re not going to believe this.”

“Jack told me…” Vaughn hurried over to Rhys side and bent down to look at the photographs, resting one arm on Rhys’ shoulder. The photos were laid out side by side on the table, next to the headpiece. It felt like there was a lump in his throat. “Look at her!” He exclaimed softly, “She could be your sister. You look so alike… and she so young… what an angel.” His voice sounded a little choked up as he looked to the next photograph and saw his own mother all young and full of life. “Mama! Oh look at her…”

“I know…” Rhys’ voice was watery from his crying, “Sit, please…”

Vaughn reached over and grabbed the chair, pulling it up right next to Rhys’ so that they could sit side by side and admire the photographs together.  He took Rhys’ hand in his and held it tightly. Within a few moments he had to produce his own handkerchief to dab at his eyes. “Look at how tall she was compared to Mama. It’s like you and I.”

Rhys smiled through his tears, “I know… I never… thought I’d be able to see her again.” He shuddered faintly before taking in some deep breaths.

“This was… exceptionally kind of Jack…” Vaughn’s admiration was in no way begrudging today.

Mutely, Rhys nodded his head and squeezed his brother’s hand.

“Did he come to see you… in person?” Vaughn enquired, still a small bit nervous about what all of this might mean.

“He did… oh god, Vaughn… I think I love him,” Rhys admitted before the pressed his free hand over his eyes.

“Can you… maybe finally… tell me what happened that night?” the illusionist settled an arm around Rhys’ shoulders. “I’d like to understand… What went so wrong.”

Rhys let his hand fall, looked up said, “Yes… but can we got sit on the bed… it's more comfortable. We need a sofa.”

Vaughn rose and helped his brother to stand. “We do. We could surely get one built for us easy enough. I'll talk to the carpenter.”

Rhys put the pictures back in the box and closed the lid, wiping his nose again before stuffing the handkerchief into his pocket. “I am going to have them framed and hang them in here… if that is okay with you.”

“Of course it is.” Vaughn drifted through the curtain to the back of the room and sat down on the unmade bed, leaning his back against the wall. Rhys joined him in a few moments. He laid down with his legs scrunched up and laid the side of his head on his brother’s lap.

After a deep, shuddering breath in, Rhys spoke, “I… He’s been trying to talk to me… for a while about… being serious. Telling me… that I never needed to worry about money again. And… I figured… that he … was being stupid. I mean. I’m a man… and all. But Angel came to me and told me that he really liked me and really wanted to see me… but I was angry because that girl from the college… the one who was writing that article… she kissed him and it made me jealous… it made me think… there was no future… so I broke it off with him.” His eyes closed.

“Wow, Rhys…” Vaughn said quietly as he reached his fingers down and started stroking his brother’s presently untamed hair. He lazily carded his fingers through the curls. “How did he take it?”  

“He was… upset… angry.” He turned his head to look up to Vaughn, saying insistently, “but he did not try to stop me. And I... I wasn’t kind.” A regretful frown pulled down the corner of his lips, “I told him I just let him fuck me so we didn’t starve.”

“Ouch.” Vaughn with a shake of his head. “Shame on you. I mean… it was… kind of true, but still.”

“Yeah…” Rhys replied and closed his eyes, “The next night… a man came… and wanted to … pay me for my company… I just wanted money to pay back Jack some of the stuff he spent on me so I could stop feeling so awful… but someone snitched on me.”

“Who?” Vaughn frowned, mentally prepared to start holding a grudge against whoever would tattle on his brother.

“One of the clowns, I assume. Both of them? I don’t know...  Anyway… He’d been drinking… he was angry… and he … broke down the door and tried to strangle the man. Jack said I belonged to him and how dare this man touch what was his. They fought a bit… and he threw him out. I … was afraid he was going to hurt me… so I … went back and got my knife and… threatened him… I stabbed him a little, even… but he never tried to put a finger on me. I told him… what happened to my eye and… not long after you came in.”

A heavy sigh escaped from Vaughn’s lips. “You poor idiot.” He kept stroking Rhys’ hair with a light, skillful hand.

Rhys continued, “He swore to me he wasn’t going to hurt me… he said he just wanted answers… as to why I would hurt him like that… is it stupid that I believe him?”

“I don’t know him as well as you do… I admit, I have my doubts. Yet… he does … seem to care about you.” Vaughn felt his jaw tightening, worried that his advice would not prove good.

Rhys said, “when he came to me today… he told me that the present was not to urge me to come back to him… but that he misses me. I… I think I'm going to go talk to him later… and maybe… we might… get back together.” He closed his eyes again, like he was preparing for Vaughn’s disapproval.

Vaughn’s fingernails scratched gently over his brother’s scalp as he said, “I’ll admit… before all this… business… he was starting to grow on me… He was obviously… very into you. He tried to get me to tell him all sorts of things… but I didn’t reveal anything that you wouldn’t have wanted told.”

“I know,” Rhys murmured.  

His brother seemed so vulnerable and childlike as he was that it pained Vaughn. “Are you looking for my blessing again, dearest brother?”  

“Yes, please,” Rhys’ voice was small and nervous.  

The illusionist caressed the hair at the back of his neck and said, “If he ever hurts you… I’ll fucking _kill_ him… but you have my blessing.”

“Thank you, Brother,” he said barely above a whisper.

Their discussion was over for certain once Rhys started to softly snore.

Leaving Rhys to his nap, Vaughn crept out, silent as a mouse and locked the door to the trailer. He straightened his bowtie and put on his bowler hat and marched himself up to the Ringmaster’s trailer full of determination.

His knuckles rapped on the wooden door and after a moment a voice said, “Who’s there?” The voice had an eagerness to it that he had personally never heard in the man’s voice before. “Vaughn O’Byrne.”

“Come on in.” Jack said, his voice easy.  

Vaughn opened up the door and stepped in to find Jack seated at his desk with Angel sitting on the bench nearby. He removed his hat and did a little bow to the young woman. “Miss Angel, may I have a word with your father alone?”

Jack had a mug of strong, black coffee sitting on the desk in front of him. He picked it up and blew on it while the illusionist spoke to his daughter.

Angel smiled, uncertainly, “Of course, Mr. O’Byrne. Dad… I’m going to take Butt Stallion out for a ride… I will talk with you later.” She rose from the bench and moved closer to Jack.

Jack smiled at her, though it was a tired, sad sort of smile, “Sure thing, Angel. Love you.”

“I love you too.” She bent and wrapped her arms around his neck before kissing him on his cheek.

“Thank you ever so kindly, Angel.” Vaughn held his hat against his chest as she passed him by and departed.

“You’re welcome. Goodbye for now,” Angel smiled and departed.

“So,” Jack started, “What can I do ya for, Vaughn? Do you want to sit or… whatever?”

Vaughn shook his head and mentally prepared himself for what he had to do, “No… Jack… I’m alright standing. I… wanted to thank you for finding those pictures for Rhys. That is… quite a kindness.”

With a big shrug of his shoulders, Jack said, “Ah, it’s… just the least I could do… No big deal.” He seemed faintly uncomfortable though not intimidated.

“It is a big deal… and I thought it reflected well of you that you did not try to use it to press Rhys to return to you.” Vaughn said, making sure he was standing up as straight as possible with his shoulders squared.

Jack sighed and folded his arms across his chest. With a weary voice he asked, “Are you here to tell me to stay away from your Brother, Vaughn?”

With a shake of his head Vaughn said, “No.” He walked slowly towards the front of the desk and set his hat down on it. “But what I am here to do is tell you that I have given him my blessing to continue to see you since it is something he seems to deeply desire.”

“Well I… Thanks... I guess?” The ringmaster seemed unprepared for how to take any of this conversation.

Vaughn slammed his fist down on the desk so loudly and suddenly that Handsome Jack sat straight up in his chair at attention, “You need to understand _one_ thing. My brother has been through too much horror in his life already. If you want to be his companion then you need to try to protect him from harm and not add to his miseries.” He leaned forward, “I know what you did to this Vasquez… and I know why… and you need to know that you’re _not_ the only man who has killed in the name of protecting his family. If you harm him… hurt him… hit him… I will gut you like a _god damned_ fish, Jack. You _hear_ me?”

Jack put both hands palms out as though the illusionist had a gun held on him, “I’m not going to hurt him, Vaughn...  I promise. I didn’t mean to scare him.” He pointed to the place where Angel was previously sitting and said, “Come on… park your ass over here.” He paused, and then corrected himself, “Please.”

Vaughn picked up his hat from the desk and walked around to the side of it to settle onto the padded bench, seeming satisfied that his point was taken.

Jack picked up his mug again and took a slow sip before setting it down, “It was the John that fucked him up… wasn’t it?”

A momentary expression of surprise tilted up Vaughn’s thick brows, “Ah… yeah… He told you about it?”

Jack’s head shook, “No. Not really. He just said he got in a bad way with a client once and you were always worried about him because of it… never told me that you did someone in over it.” He nodded his head, approvingly, “But good on you.”

Vaughn looked a little disappointed in himself that he got tricked into giving up more information than intended, but he shrugged it off. “My brother is a... good man… and he puts the welfare of people he loves over his own too easily. I’d give anything to make him care more about his own well being.”  

“I see that,” Jack glanced over and out the small window, “I know myself well enough to know that Jack doesn’t share. I just don’t have that in me… So… I’m going to ask him to stop that game. I can’t really even tell you for certain that we’re getting back together.” He shrugged his shoulders. “Because if he won’t… then I can’t do it. And if that’s his choice… there won’t be… retaliation.”  

“Well… I certainly wish you luck. God knows I have tried to get him to stop.” Touching the brim of his hat, nervously, he said, “Jack... before… everything happened we were starting to get along, it felt like. I really hope that that continues.”

Jack nodded affably, “Yeah. I had hoped so too… uh... in fact… before things went tits up… I was going to ask you if you possibly wanted to learn how to drive. Rhys said… you wanted to once.”

Vaughn was simultaneously thrilled and horrified. He wanted to drive more than anything but the thought of being taught by Handsome Jack sounded like the things nightmares were made of. He imagined the Ringmaster’s booming voice screaming at him for doing something wrong while he drove them into  tree.  “Well… I… would like nothing more.”

“Good.” Jack nodded, “Angel said she’d love to teach you…She’s really taken with the whole fighting thing. So… I’ll let you two work that out amongst themselves.”

Relief washed over him, “Thanks, Jack… I … appreciate it.” He smiled. “Rhys is… taking a bit of a nap right now but… I’m sure he’ll be around to talk to you before too long. I uh… thank you again… for finding those pictures for him… for us.”

Jack nodded and said, “Ah… you’re welcome…”

Vaughn popped up to his feet and put his hat on his head before thrusting a hand out to Jack.

The Ringmaster took it and shook it readily, “You’re a good brother. He’s a lucky guy to have one like you.”

A smile crept over Vaughn’s lips as he released the man’s hand. “I’m lucky to have him as well. Good luck and… have a nice afternoon.”

“You too, Vaughn,” he dipped his head to him. “I promise… I’ll take good care of him… if he lets me.”

Feeling confident as he could about the situation, Vaughn tipped his hat. “Thank you. My mind is… much more at ease.”  

Vaughn felt invincible as he left the Ringmaster’s trailer and went to find Yvette. He was eager to tell her all of the excitement that he had already experienced this morning; especially the part where he threatened Handsome Jack and lived to tell about it.

Most importantly, he stood up for his Brother just as Rhys had always done for him.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just in time for this chapter: [Clicky](http://sinesthero.tumblr.com/post/143967707044/asphyxiate-my-soul-commission-for-mandaocity)


	16. Come as you Are

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rhys and Jack finally sit down to talk things over.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh Hi. Are you still here? Well, goodness. Hello.

Rhys awoke to find himself alone. The air was hot and dry inside the room and it seemed relatively quiet outside of his trailer.

Staring at the ceiling, his mother's lovely face came to his mind as she was in the photographs: pixie like, smiling, forever young and untouched. The joy of knowing her face after all these years was mingled with the shame of how he had put her from his mind for so many years and relief at knowing that she was not entirely forgotten to the world. Someone had held onto those pictures like they meant something.

He swung his long legs over the side of the narrow bed and sat upright. The silver watch on the shelf by the bed,  a gift from Jack of course, showed him that it was about 3:00 in the afternoon.

After stretching, he rose and went to wash his face with the pitcher and basin in the main room. The residue of his tears was wiped away as was the crust of sleep that had gathered in his eyes while he had napped.

It was time to go talk to Jack again. Eagerness mixed with apprehension in his heart as he contemplated what he might say or how things might go.

As he had never bothered with his pomade this morning, he brushed out his curling hair. The thought occurred to him to wet it down and slick it back like usual. He could apply a little bit of makeup and put on one of his more attractive outfits instead of the simple work outfit he was wearing now.

The mirror gave him his reflection as it always did. Like this, he was relatively plain. Sure, he was still good looking, but he didn’t have half the allure of Rhys the performer or Rhys the whore.

Ultimately, he decided against any of it and just be Rhys the man. If he was going to go to the Ringmaster with a new level of honesty in their relationship, then he wasn’t going to worry about the primping and artifice.

This was how he looked. It was more true than any of his other versions of himself: a man who had grown up poor and seen enough horrors to last him a life time.

He looked at his bright-blue false eye, blinking several times. With his right hand he gently pushed the socket open wider as his left hand carefully reached in and prized the glass orb from its place.  It was slipped into his pocket.

With a deep breath he looked into his reflection again. This was more like it. This was a version of himself more real than any he had showed Jack before. If he could accept this, then maybe there was a chance.

He forced his breathing to stay deep and even as he slid on his shoes and tied them. Before he left the trailer, he opened the box and touched that feathery headband one more time. For a moment he nearly lost his composure again.

It did not seem to make any sense. Why had Jack done such an exceptionally kind thing for someone who he barely knew? It occurred to him that he did not really know Jack much better than the man knew him. Perhaps they could change that.

When he forced his breathing to return to a slow and measured pace he closed the box and left his trailer. After locking it, he marched his way across the field towards the Ringmaster’s lodging.

There were nervous nods and greetings from some of the Rousties. Circus folk were not easily bothered by anomalies like missing eyes. After all, many of them had worked with freak shows where a missing eye would be among the milder things one might see.

Jack’s large trailer was resting towards the back of the field, its windows opened to allow the passage of air to ease the heat. Rhys climbed up the few steps and knocked on the door.

There was not any shouts of ‘who is it’ in an annoyed voice. The door just opened and Jack was standing there with his broad chest, strong arms, and large hands.

Though there was surprise on his face, he didn’t register any disgust for looking into that empty socket. One of his hands started to reach out before he let it fall back to his side. “Rhys, hey… Come in, would ya?”

Rhys felt as nervous as he did the first time he was in the man’s presence though the reasons why were not the same.

“You look good,” Jack said with a smooth earnestness to his voice.

“You’re into the open socket look?” Rhys’ voice was thick with sarcasm before he realized what he was doing.

Jack ushered him inside with a hand on the small of his back, saying, “I’m into _you_ , kiddo. I knew you were missing an eye. You trying to shock me so I what… faint and run away?” He chuckled, “That ain’t happening.”

His smooth cheeks blushing pink, Rhys said, uncertainly, “Maybe?” He walked to the counter with the wash basin and leaned against it. “I just… want you to see me like I am.”

Jack shut the door and moved to sit down on the bench. “You should know, I like you any way you are. The androgynous thing is pretty hot, sure, but you don’t need to be feminine. Can I ask you though… why it’s blue? You’re so against… people asking about it… but you make it obvious.”

Rhys smiled faintly, feeling a sense of relief to get the response he had been looking for. As his point was made he pulled the prosthetic out of his pocket and held it over the basin to pour water over it, rinsing it. “The first one I ever had was blue, because it  was second hand and it was what we could get our hands on. I was just glad to… have something to make me look… more normal. It became just part of my look. A touch of… something else exotic for performances… though as a boy it got me no end of taunting… but less than the eye patch.”

With a nod of attempted understanding Jack said, “Do you ever want one that would… match more closely?”

“No…” Rhys shook his head, “I think I like it as it is. It’s me now. If you could change your eyes to be both green or blue, would you?” The glass orb was shaken to rid it of excess moisture.

“No,” Jack said. “I get it.”

Rhys turned his back to the older man as he reached up his hand to spread open the socket again.

“You don’t need to turn away. I’d like to see… how you put it in.” His voice was mild and genuine.

Rhys sat next to Jack on the bench, “If you like… I’ll show you.”

“I do.” Jack watched carefully with a neutral expression as Rhys held open that empty socket and carefully pushed the prosthetic back into its place. He removed his fingers and blinked several times as the false eye settled back into its place. “Thank you for… sharing that with me. I’m sorry… that… I forced you to tell me.”

Rhys shook his head, “No… I... “ He paused and took a deep breath, “I think… someone needed to. I cut myself off from even thinking about my mother… for so long. From thinking about what happened. It wasn’t good for me. It wasn’t good for Vaughn either. It even… cut me off from good thoughts of her. It’s still… really hard.” His eyes teared up a little, “But I’m going to try.”

Jack nodded and he stretched out an arm, “Come here, Kitten.”

Scooting closer, Rhys put his arms around the Ringmaster who enclosed him in his warm embrace. It did not matter that the day was hot. He smelled good and there was no place the younger man would rather be.

“You poor kid.” Large hands soothed up and down the contortionists back. “I want you to know… I never… had to take anyone by force. I don’t believe in that shit… and I’ve never tolerated a man who did.”

Rhys’ voice was small and sounded confused, “What?”

“You said I reminded you of the man who… did that to your mother. I’d _never_ do that. I’ve never hurt anyone that didn’t have it coming to them. I’m not a... great guy… but I’m not a monster.”

Regret settled on Rhys’ face and he looked down as he pulled away from the warmth of Jack’s body, “I didn’t mean it… I was just… scared. And when you drink sometimes… you… make me nervous.”

An enormous sigh came from deep within Jack’s chest, “I… probably drink to avoid dealing with the things… in my own life. Maybe I’m going to need to examine my own… past.”

Rhys also expelled the air from his lungs heavily. “We’re a pair, aren’t we?”

“An incredibly good looking but fucked pair, yeah.” Jack’s gaze lifted up to the ceiling and he said, “There’s something I have to say.” He took a breath.

Rhys waited in expectant silence, though he was nearly certain he knew what this would be about.

“I can’t… take you being with other men.” Jack turned to look at him again, right into his good eye. “If you can’t… won’t… stop. It’s okay with me. I mean… it’s not okay with me, but I won’t stop you. I just can’t be with you. Because I know me. I _can’t_ share.”

Rhys pulled back slightly and looked into the other man’s eyes. “I’ve used whoring as… a… a substitute for… a relationship I figured I was never going to have. When we were together, I never… did it. It was only after I broke it off that I tried to… and that was… because I wanted to pay you back for the money you spent on me. I’m done. I promise.”

Jack’s large hands moved to either side of Rhys’ face, cradling it with his thumbs against those fine cheekbones so he could lean forward and press their lips together in a ghost of a kiss that was light and short lived as a breeze. His hands slid down Rhys’ face and neck to rest on his shoulders, “Thank you. It’s better for you. Safer… and by the way… your brother came and threatened my life.”

Rhys’ eyes widened and he said, “Oh my god… he didn’t… I am so sorry, Jack. He…”

Jack shook with amused laughter which caused the contortionist to go silent. “I like him. He’s not Milquetoast after all.  He ordered me to be good to you… and told me that if I hurt you he’d gut me like a fish… aaaaand, he said he’d killed for you before.”

“It’s true,” Rhys said, his face turning down and away.

“Someday… I’d like you to tell me what happened. When you’re ready. You’ve… relived enough bad memories lately… but I told him… that he was a good brother and that I wouldn’t hurt you.”

“He really is. I’m… embarrassed that he threatened you but… kinda proud of him.” A wry grin worked its way over his lips as he glanced back into the other man’s eyes.

Chuckling, Jack said, “Don’t be. That’s what family does. By the way, Angel’s going to teach him how to drive. I think you should learn too. Cars are the way of the future, doll.”

“Wow,” Rhys thought about it for a few moments, “I’m really excited for Vaughn it's… something he's always wanted. I’m a little nervous, but I’d like to try.”

“Good, we will start once we get into Hillcrest.” The older man's face turned suddenly stern, “You eaten recently?” His head canted to the side slightly as he asked with a slight narrowing of his eyes.

“Ah… no…” Rhys said, his face flushing again with sudden guilt.

“You know I had half a mind to give you a real dressing down after Vallory told me you weren’t eating and had passed out because of it. It was only because I promised to leave you alone that I didn’t. Good thing old Val found you.”

“I know… it was… foolish. I just… I was so.... I didn’t have you… and I… so much was stirred up.” His head shook. “Vaughn was trying to take care of me but I didn’t want to bother him. I…” He admitted something he had never admitted to anyone before and it surprised even himself, “sometimes want to … just… die.”

The green and blue eyes held a steady gaze on Rhys’ as Jack spoke, “I know what that’s like. I’ve been there… several times. You don’t… ever try… to make it happen, do you?”

Rhys shook his head vehemently, “No… I just… don’t … look out for myself like I should. It’s a lack of… concern for my safety… Vaughn calls it a death wish.”

“Well… You’re gonna start caring more about it now… alright, baby? Or I’ll smack your ass good and hard for being so reckless.” He leaned forward and pressed another, harder kiss to Rhys’ lips before pulling back to say with a grin, “That doesn’t count right? I think you like that.”

Laughing, Rhys said, “That doesn’t count. My protector won’t gut you for that.” He smiled so broadly, “I’ll try to take better care of myself… so let’s get some food.”

“You stay right here. I will be back in a flash.” Jack said and got up to depart.

Rhys looked around. The place mostly looked the same except for it was missing all of the pretty glasses and the decanter that normally rested on Jack’s bar behind his desk when not packed away for travel. He must have swiped them all off in his anger at Rhys leaving him. He felt a twinge of guilt.

As Jack was gone he got up to do a bit of practice. It had been a week since he did any of his stretches so he used the opportunity to get down on the floor and stretch himself out.  

Jack returned about twenty minutes later with a covered platter of food. It was mostly pieces of cheese, bread, sliced vegetables and fruits as official dinner would not be ready for another couple of hours. He snickered to see Rhys on the floor with his back arched and arms on the floor behind him.

After smiling at him with his head upside down, Rhys hurried to right himself and get back up to his feet. “I have to get myself back in shape. There’s no way you’re keeping me off the bill this week.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it, now that you’re eating.” He sat down on the bench and set the platter of food on his lap, “So… Angel told me you used to do Aerial contortion. Why did you stop that?”

Rhys pursed his lips as he too sat on the bench, “So… to explain that… I… have to explain to you about the guy that tried to kill me… if it's okay.” He picked up a piece of cheese and bread and sandwiched them together before putting it into his mouth.

“Of course it's okay,” Jack said. He picked up a berry to eat.

Rhys ran the fingers of his left hand through the curls at the back of his head, “So… We were in a town called Rockford, Illinois. This guy came… to see the show two nights in a row. I saw him both nights. Right in the front row, just staring at me. The second night he sought me out after the show.… He was a big man… muscled… very good looking. But he just had a sort of … meanness to him… Vaughn intercepted me… but… like I always did, I told him not to worry… that it would all be fine.”

Jack shook his head and made a tsk tsk sound, but otherwise stayed quiet to listen.

“I regretted it right away… but again… I just… didn’t care what happened to me. Or so I thought. He started out being really rough in taking off my clothes… ripping them. I didn’t like that. My clothes were not cheap… I complained to him. He hit me… with the back of his hand.”

The ringmaster’s jaw tightened as he listened and his right hand slid around Rhys’ shoulders like he could protect him from a memory.  

“He told me to shut up and keep my mouth closed if I knew what was good for me. I… I never put up with that sort of shit. I kicked him as hard as I could in the shin… and tried to call for help… but he put a hand over my mouth… and he just started hitting me.” Rhys paused in his sad narrative, looking away from the other man’s face. “He beat me and took what he wanted, keeping a hand… over my face. I bit him hard and that pushed him over the edge, I guess. He put his hands around my throat and I just remember… things starting to go dark. I don’t… remember much for a while… just… blood all over me. Vaughn had picked the lock and crept in. Slit the guy’s throat… but I guess it took him some time to die… and… he just kept stabbing him until he stopped moving.”

Jack pulled him close when he was done telling the story. He kissed him on cheekbone before leaning his forehead against Rhys’ “Why… wasn’t that enough to stop you from… continuing on.”

“It was all I had… for sex. Afterwards I only ever tried to take the sort of man I could take in a fight. Older men… weaker men… I’m not weak… you know that... “

“Yeah,” Jack agreed readily, “I know that. Heh. That time you got me across the face I could tell that. And just the amount of strength you need to do what you do… So you thought I was old and weak?”

Rhys shook his head and looked down into his lap, “No. I was just desperate. Then I started to like you. Anyway… to finish this… terrible story… The fucker broke my arm and I was… pretty battered… and I just never felt like climbing up into the silks again. It took me a long time to build up the strength in my that arm… the right.”

“Damn Rhysie, sweetheart… that’s… some fucked up shit, baby. I’m sorry. Did you ever… want to try again. I’m an… awful big fan. It’s… pleasing you know… calming… to watch.”

Rhys bit his lower lip for a moment as he thought about it. “I’d… try… though I’d hate to make you go to the trouble of purchasing silks… if I… decide I can’t do it.”

Jack held the plate out to Rhys, “If you want to try that’s all I need to know. Now eat, baby.”

Rhys snatched a piece of a carrot and popped it into his mouth. He chewed and swallowed before saying, “It’s your turn now. You said Mr. Tassiter wasn’t as bad as your Grandmother, but he was still awful. How?”

“Ah, fuck.” Jack leaned back against the cushions and sighed ponderously at the thought, “My grandmother… she… was an animal. She seemed to like to hurt me, you know, like to really get into it.”

Rhys had a hard time processing the thought, though he obediently kept munching on the food as he listened.

Jack looked at the window opposite them, though not much of interest could be seen through it. “With Harold… it was more about making himself superior and making sure I always knew I was nothing. He didn’t hit me much. Especially since I got myself strong, _really_ quick and he was a pencil necked dandy,” A pause, “No offense to any pencil necked dandies that may be present.”

Rhys’ eyes narrowed just the faintest bit and he lifted his hand to flip him off, though even that was more play than anything. It helped to lighten up weighty subjects. “So he was just… cold and critical?”

A huff of breath escaped Jack’s lips that sounded somewhere between indignation and a burst of laughter. “He’d make me practice over and over and over again, until I wanted to die…. And the whole time he’d just... criticize everything I did.  He was just a … huge dick.”

“Sounds like it. I don’t understand why people… have or take in children they don’t want if they’re just going to be horrible to them.”  

“Hell if I know… the thing of it was… I really tried for years… to please the asshole. I felt so certain that he had done me the biggest favor. He adopted me, you know? He fed me, clothed me. But he was such a critical fucker. When I had Angel. I told myself I wasn’t going to be like my Grandmother… and I wasn’t going to be like Harold. I was going to make sure she knew she was beautiful, even if she wasn’t. I was going to tell her all the time how great she was and smart.”

“She is great. You did a good job. For the love of God, why does the world suck so much? Look at us… the saddest sacks in the history of sad sacks.” Rhys said ruefully before selecting a final morsel to eat, “I think I’m done.”

Jack looked at the plate, mentally tallying how much Rhys had eaten. “Alright… but we’re eating again at dinner.” With no warning, he dropped the bomb, “Do you want to move in with me? I could get you your own key made… I mean, you can keep your trailer for dressing and keeping your shit… I don’t have a ton of extra space… but...”

Rhys froze and looked up into his eyes, his own widened comically large in shock before he gathered his wits, “Yes, _yes_ , Yes!  I would _love_ that. I… _hate_ sleeping away from you. And _my_ mattress is terrible… and I am waaaaaaaaay too old to still share a bed with my little brother.”

Jack beamed and somehow all the horrors behind them seemed lessened in that moment, “Well, I was just trying not to be too … pushy?”

Rhys smirked, “Push all you want.”

The plate was set over on the desk before Jack turned and grabbed Rhys by his shoulders and pushed him back down on the bench. His voice turned into a low growl he leaned over and said, “I’ve missed you so damn much I’ve been out of my damn mind.”

Rhys’ curls bounced back against the fabric of the bench as he was pushed down. “I've missed you, too… so much so that when I jerked myself off I imagined you instead of Carey Grant for a change.”

“I’m really fucking touched, Rhysie,” He said, with fond sarcasm, “Good thing you got the real me right here.” His hands started work unfastening Rhys’ suspenders while the younger man was yanking open the other man’s buttons.

Eventually they realized it was faster to remove one’s own clothing and as Jack leaned back to pull off his over shirt, Rhys went straight for his own pants not even bothering to worry about his shirt. He could fuck with a shirt on.

Jack’s laughter egged him on, “Not messin’ around today, are you.”  

“Damn straight, old man.” Rhys taunted before kicking off his shoes and awkwardly working at wiggling out of his pants. It became apparent after a few moments that he was not going to manage it on his own.

Ultimately, it fell upon Jack to free him from the tangles of his own pant legs. The Ringmaster was laughing so hard by the time they got him freed that he had to pause and lean against his desk so that he might catch his breath. In between the fits of laughter he managed to proclaim,  “At least I’ve mastered _pants_ , kiddo.”

Rhys laughed as well as Jack moved in and pulled him to his feet by his wrists before stripping him off both of his shirts in one motion by pulling them over the top of his head. In retaliation he grabbed the bottom of Jack’s undershirt and yanked it off so he could run his hands over Jack’s broad, hairy chest. “Kiss me you bastard.”

Jack put his arms around his nude lover and hitched him up close. He gave him a long look in the eye and kissed him hard. His lover wasn’t passive, either. It soon became like a contest to show which one of them missed the other more through lips and tongue alone.

Not wanting to break the kiss, Jack just started walking backwards and forcing Rhys to shuffle with him. Only when they got through the curtain did he pull his lips away so that he could shove Rhys on the bed.

Rhys flew back and landed on his ass on the mattress with a bounce. “Come on, Handsome Jack. Let’s get those pants off. Show me what I’ve been missing.”

Jack’s slacks were quickly dropped to the ground and after he shoved down his boxer shorts they were both left in only their trusty footwear. No use in wasting time on socks and sock garters. He tore open the dresser drawer grabbing first the lube and then another to find a towel. Both he tossed on the bed in a perfunctory fashion before he jumped on the bed next to Rhys.

Rhys was on him as soon as he landed and they fell into a tangle of arms and legs, their lips and tongues mingling as they enjoyed the feeling of each other’s skin. Foreplay wound up decidedly short by a silent but mutual agreement. When the older man leaned back to apply lubrication to his throbbing cock, the contortionist grabbed a pillow and bent back in his unnatural way to shove it under the small of his back before settling onto it. He lifted both legs into the air and spread them wide.

With slick fingers, Jack traced the puckered ring of muscle before he worked one digit inside of him.

A moan of need escaped from Rhys’ lips and he let his head fall back against the bed, though his eyes stayed focused on his lover. He reached between his legs to stroke himself, “Please don’t make me wait any longer. I _need_ you.”

There was a hungry look in Jack’s eyes as he withdrew his finger from within his lover and grabbed him by his thighs. He pulled the younger man close to him and started to work his rigid, uncut cock inside of him with one hand as the other batted Rhys’ hand away from himself.

Their bodies started moving together and Jack’s big, slick hand wrapped around Rhys’ erection as he joined their lips again in a hard, wet kiss.

Rhys’ fingers grasped for the other’s shoulders and gripped them painfully tight as Jack became merciless with his thrusts.

When their lips parted, they were for a moment still joined with a thick strand of saliva before Jack bit Rhys’ neck hard.

The younger man clenched his ass and moaned before reaching up to pull at Jack’s grey streaked brown hair.

His voice was a growl as Jack said, “Te Amo.”

The foreign words made his heart flutter and this time Rhys would not let it go. “What… what is that?”

“I love you.” Jack’s voice held an unmistakable tremor as he translated.

“Oh _God Almighty_ …” Rhys breathed, “ _I love you too._ ”

If there was such a thing as a perfect moment it was this. Jack’s hand squeezed his cock and jerked it so exquisitely as his dick thrummed against Rhys’ prostate that the contortionist came with a broken cry of pleasure and joy.

Jack said the words over again in a low passionate voice as he thrust himself into his lover, “Te Amo, te amo, te amo…” And then, softer, “Rhys.” He was every bit as lost to the moment.

Rhys had not yet recovered from his own orgasm when he felt Jack thrust hard and deep within him before the man groaned and shuddered in climax. Rhys wrapped his arms around him tightly. “Jack.”

Then, there was only hard breathing for several long moments as Jack lay over him and kissed his neck gently between breaths.

There was silence Jack’s softening cock pulled free. He went down onto one elbow at Rhys’ side. Strong arms gathered him against Jack’s chest and it seemed that they both understood that something profound had happened in those fevered moments. Something had changed irreversibly. They each contemplated it, alone but together, as they held each other. The sounds of the world beyond that small room slowly started to once again filter into their private world.

“Jack,” Rhys finally broke the silence between them.

“Yeah?” Jack asked, looking into Rhys’ eyes.

“What was your act, exactly?” Rhys asked with big doe-like eyes, “What did Harold make you learn?”

Jack frowned and looked guarded for a moment, yet he could deny Rhys nothing now. “I used to juggle…” He reluctantly added in a mumble, “On a unicycle.”

Unable to help himself, Rhys laughed so hard that in time Jack was obliged to stop taking offense and laugh with him.


	17. Deep Cuts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rhys takes his turn to probe Jack for details of his past.

“How many lovers have you had Jack?”

It was not a typically light and easy question to start off the day. Rhys asked it before he even turned around to face the other man.

Jack folded his arms behind his head and looked at the ceiling. Yawning, he made the attempt to casually deflect, “Are we really going there right now? I just woke up.”

Rhys sounded fully alert, like he had been awake some time now, already pondering this very question. He elaborated as he shifted to lay on his back as well, “I don’t mean how many people have you had sex with. I mean… people you had _something_ with. People you actually... loved.”

“You want like… a full list of my old flames? Like… girlfriends, wives and paramours?” Jack gave him a dead eyed look and prepared to stonewall this discussion.

“Wives?” Rhys’ eyes widened and he glanced over at Jack, “How many times were you married?”

“Oh, Jesus Christ.” It was time for Jack to be on the defensive when it came to hidden matters of the past. He seemed distracted and cagey nigh immediately. Stalling, he countered, “Can’t we start with any other question before that?”

Rhys’ eyes drifted the picture of Nisha Kadam framed on the wall. After deliberating he said, “No. You’re so much more experienced than I am.”

Jack’s blue and green eyes turned to Rhys and a smirk crinkled up the corners of his thick lips, “You were _literally_ a prostitute until yesterday afternoon. You showed me something I had never seen and at my age that’s pretty fucking impressive… and I once saw a girl write a letter with her snatch.”  

Rhys guffawed, “That’s not the same. I can paint a mental picture for you of as many of the men who’ve had me as you have time for, but that’s not… love. I’ve never done ‘love’. So tell me about what your other relationships were like. Tell me about your first love.”

Jack groaned and tried to pull the sheet over his face to avoid speaking.

“You are the worst kind of hypocrite.” Rhys turned on his side to face Jack and felt for his nipple under the sheet to give it a substantial pinch.

Jack hissed and threw the sheet off his face and tried to slap at Rhys’ hands, “Okay! Fine... So… what are you looking for... A quick recitation of every relationship I’ve had or can I stick with the major ones?”

“Just talk to me.” Rhys was pleased with himself that his words came out forcefully and not at all whiney.

“Alright... so… I told you about Moxxi.” Jack said, as though he had thoroughly covered the topic.

“Not really. You told me she existed.” Rhys’ eyes rolled his dismissively. “That hardly counts. Was she your first love?”

Jack took his time answering, like he really had to think about the question. He finally settled with, “I guess. She was part of Bartelli Brothers since I first joined. She came from a long line of carnies… the most inbred hillbilly fucks you are likely to meet this side of the Appalachians. Just a hot mess of cousin-fuckers.”

His head shook faintly before he got back on track with the important bits, “Anyway… she’s bout my age… and she had these _amazing_ tits. They were just up and in your face about it.” Jack’s hands raised in front of his chest and he made a gesture to indicate the splendor of her rack. ” We were just lusty teenage idiots. We were together a couple years, but ya know… we both had white hot tempers and were mean as rattlesnakes to each other. Can I reiterate, kiddo, that Scooter is not my kid.”

“That’s _weirdly_ important to you that I accept that fact.” Rhys narrowed his eyes, but a quirk of his lips betrayed his amusement.

“Cousin fuckers, Rhys,” Jack said, solemnly.  

Rhys laughed and shook his head, “So you had a hot hillbilly girl. What about Angel’s mother? I don’t… I’m not looking for painful details just…” He seemed to sense that he may have misstepped with his words and trailed off.

“You’re not curious about my face?” It was obviously an attempt at a derailment of the line of questioning. “You’ve never once asked.”

“I didn’t want you to bug me about my eye… but… I am curious. What happened to your face?” Rhys’ eyes glanced at the diagonal scar across Jack’s face.

“A girlfriend,” Jack replied, seeming to only now realize that that hardly changed the topic far enough. He sighed and said, “Ok… Rhys… my first wife’s name was Elizabeth.” The lids closed over his eyes. “She was one of the greatest things that ever happened to me in my life and… I _still_ miss her. I wasn’t prepared for her death. And it’s still hard to talk about it.” Once he got it out, his eyes again opened.

Rhys stopped him from saying more, having gotten all that he needed from this first foray into Jack’s private life. With quiet sincerity he said,  “Thank you for doing it anyway… but you don’t have to say anything else about her if you don’t want.”

“Thanks, Pumpkin,“ Jack sighed, his hairy chest rising and falling as he took time to just breathe before going on of his own free will. “I didn’t have too many years with her… so I never had the chance to really fuck that one up.” His gaze fell on the younger man as he said, seriously, “I have a lot of failed relationships under my belt. That should be a bad omen about how good I am at them. Elizabeth and Nisha died on me…  the rest of my flings I fucked up or helped fuck up or made a bad situation worse.”

Rhys said, “You’re not going to scare me off. Now tell me about your face. A woman did that to you?”

“Yeah. A woman.” Jack’s voice was lower and more gravely than normal. He propped himself up on his elbow and used his other arm to pull Rhys close against him. He flipped him around and forced him to be the little spoon.

Rhys let himself be maneuvered. The morning manhandling was something he had missed in their time apart.

Now Jack’s lips were at his ears and he said, “She was called Lilith the Firehawk. She could walk on hot coals and eat fire. She was gorgeous, but dangerous… and not in the same way Nisha was. I wouldn’t even say we had a relationship… so much as a tumultuous and extended array of hate sex.”

“Why did you hate each other?” Rhys now guessed that Jack did not want to look him in the eye while he told this story.

“Because She was a bitch and I’m… me. I dated her after Elizabeth died… so I was drinking… pretty heavily. She was drinking as well because she was a _real_ big fan of the bottle.  She got sick of my shit quick, I guess, and took up with a guy named Roland. Didn't bother to tell me. I had an… altercation with the man when I found out… she had it bad for him and took offense to that and… well, when she got me off him… she slashed my face while he held me down.  Thought she would teach me some kind of lesson.”

“Altercation, you say.” Rhys asked seriously, “Did you try to kill him?”

“No… It just… was a really ugly fight. Lilith and I weren't good together, but she didn't have the balls to even break it off properly.”

“A woman with no balls. Who could imagine.” Rhys said with a voice filled with fake mystery. He shimmied around to face Jack again.

“Shut up, punk, you know what I mean.” Now that Rhys was facing him Jack turned his back to him. He definitely did not want to make eye contact while he talked about this. “I think she would have kept going with the… face… carving… but some of my guys broke it up and ran them off.” He paused and snorted, “She said she wanted to make it so no woman would make the mistake of wanting me again.  I got the last laugh though. I didn't pay them their last two weeks wages.”

Rhys put his arm around Jack and urged him to roll around to face him again. “Come on… come back over here.”

The older man reluctantly complied, his lips pursed.

“It's not bad… makes you look tough... and you’re handsome as hell either way.” Rhys reached out a finger and traced the line down across his face before pressing a gentle kiss to his lips, though he bit the fattest part of Jack’s lower lip.

Jack laughed and pushed him back, “You’re fucking feisty this morning, Kiddo, but we’ve got no time for shenanigans. We need to get up and at ‘em. Gotta get this show on the road. So come on and let’s get breakfast in us.”

“I haven’t really been seen out much since this whole… fight of ours… happened. Maybe can we both go down to breakfast together.”

“We could just eat in here…” Jack offered, his preference abundantly clear. He never ate with the riff raff.

“I’d prefer if you came out with me,” Rhys implored. “I miss the others.”

“You know I don’t eat with everyone often,” Jack said, his expression wary and tense.  

“Maybe you should start. Come on.” He wriggled out of bed and rose to start putting on yesterday’s clothing.

Jack dressed simply as well. “I… I dunno, Kiddo. I like to keep a little separation between me and them. Helps them remember who's boss, ya know?”

“You’re ridiculous.” Rhys declared as he buttoned his shirt, “I’m not going to hide in here and eat alone with you at every meal. Just come with me. It will be fun.”

“Fine.” Jack could see he was losing this fight and gave in.

All eyes went to them as they walked into the tent. Some of the roustabouts even sat a little straighter in their seats. Rhys had his arm looped around Jack’s in such a fashion as to indicate to all that they were officially together. It was important to him to make that clear.

Angel smiled and beckoned, “Morning Dad. Morning Rhys. Come sit with us!”

She was sitting at the table ended by LB’s barrel. Gortys was settled on a corner of the table with her legs crossed in a meditative fashion by one of LB’s plates mounded with food. Her own smaller plate was settled in her lap. Yvette and Vaughn were seated there as well. They looked to be done eating and were just settled there enjoying the company. Yvette had one arm around Vaughn’s shoulders casually.  

“Sure thing, Angel.” Jack answered her with that particularly proud, fatherly smile Rhys had come to know was reserved for her.

Rhys smiled brightly at them all, “Good morning, everyone.”

From across the room Fiona called over, “He lives!” in Rhys’ general direction. She was seated, as often she was, with Janey, Athena, Sasha and August.

Rhys grinned and released Jack’s arm. He called back, “That’s the rumor anyway. Morning ladies, August.”

“Morning gentlemen.” Sasha offered, though the way she said gentlemen left it ambiguous as to if she was sincere or sarcastic.

“Good morning,” August said with dubious sincerity. He looked mildly hung over and even less friendly than his usual unfriendly self.

“Glad you're on your feet again, Stretch.” Janey greeted Rhys with an enthusiastic smile. She always seemed to have a boundless energy to her. She than nodded to the Ringmaster, “Morning Sir!”

Athena, her hair so impossibly shiny and impossibly purple looked up as they passed by. She dipped her head to Jack and offered an efficient, “Sir.” When her gaze turned to Rhys there was nothing there but the most intense look of loathing. To him she said nothing.

“Morning, moneymakers!” Jack said, cheerily, before talking to the cook about what he wanted to eat.

Rhys turned away from Athena, not caring for the feel of her eyes boring into him and resolved that he would finally work up the nerve to ask her directly what her issue was with him. For now, though, he had a desperate need for the sausages he was smelling on the griddle.

When both men had their trays full, they settled into the two end seats on the end of the table, opposite of the massive strongman.

“Morning, Rhys… and to you, Jack,” Yvette said in a suggestive sing song voice. She seemed to have no fear of Jack unusual presence, “We are so rarely graced with your illustrious personage.”

LB observed, philosophically, while he sandwiched eggs and a preposterous amount of tabasco sauce in between two slices of toasted bread, “Perhaps it is lonely at the mountain top.”  

Jack stared at the Strongman and looked perturbed. He looked like he was going to say something before he glanced at Rhys, then Angel. “Rhys thought I should, so blame him if you’re all uncomfortable.” He shrugged.

Angel rolled her eyes. “Dad… It’s fine. We’re glad to have you here. At least, I am.”

Rhys looked across the table at his brother and gave him a sly grin. “Morning, Brother. I will not fail you this week. I am ready to work… and would you pass the pepper?”

“Of course, brother, and I’m glad to hear it.” Vaughn was seated across the table and about two seats down from Rhys’ position. The glass shaker of previously ground pepper rested near Vaughn’s mug of coffee. With a grin he reached out and placed his thumb and forefinger around it. His eyes narrowed slightly as he judged the situation before he sent it sliding nearly down the table.

It narrowly missed hitting the dish of sugar and someone’s mug of coffee before it came to rest by Rhys, who gave a polite series of claps with his fingers to the heel of his palm in approval.

Yvette grinned indulgently at her beau as she took a bite of toast.

Angel said to her father, “Well I am glad you came out. I’ve been telling you for _ages_ you should spend less time alone.”

Jack nodded, “Yeah well. Here I am. Try not to get too excited about it.”

Having Jack with them proved surprisingly fun. It occurred to Rhys he seldom saw Jack interact with anyone on a personal level. They were either working, or they were generally alone together. He was very funny and charming in an affably crude sort of way.

Though breakfast was fun and Rhys did get caught up in chatting, he could not stop glancing over in Athena’s direction now and again, wondering what exactly it was he had done to earn her disdain.

When at last Athena eventually rose to leave, Rhys sensed a chance to press the situation and see if he catch her alone. He rose and grabbed his tray to deposit it for washing and bent to kiss Jack on the temple, “I’m going to let you get to your work and I to mine. I’ll see you a little later, alright?”

“Sure thing, Kiddo.” Jack said fondly and rose to get to his own business.

After bidding farewell to the rest of the table he stalked out of the tent to hunt down where Athena had gone. He was lucky to find her walking back towards her trailer and he made to follow, not wanting to hail her until he had some modicum of privacy.

The blade mistress stopped moving and without looking behind herself she said, “What do you want?” The tone of her voice was simple and direct as the woman herself seemed to be.

“To talk.” Rhys replied moving forward to try to catch up with her.

Athena turned to face him, her eyes showing annoyance as her brows furrowed. She said, “I don’t have time for this, O’Byrne. It’s a busy day… for some of us.”

Rhys left them a few feet of distance and folded his arms before blurting out, “Why do you hate me so much? I don’t see you give anyone _nearly_ as many dirty looks as you give me.”

A frown pulled down her lips at the question and she looked away from him. “You hurt him once already.” Her eyes had a brightness to them as she shifted her head again to stare angrily at him, “Do you really think I’m supposed to be thrilled to see you arm in arm?”

Rhys blinked in confusion, “You don’t like me… because I’m _with_ Jack?”

Athena corrected him like an impatient school mistress, “No, Rhys, I don’t like you because you’re a whore and a gold digger.” She said it in a way that implied no cruelty, merely one calling it like they see it.  “John’s _finally_ really back up on his feet and you come swooping in out of nowhere. I’ve got my eyes on you so you _better_ not hurt him.”

Rhys’ lips parted and color rose to his cheeks angrily. First his mind searched for an acid reply, but his wit failed him and he fell into slack jawed silence.  

Stung, he turned away and walked back in the direction of his own trailer and the work that awaited him there. He would prefer to go straight to Jack and to find out what Athena was to him that her opinions on his lovers might be so strong; but he decided that it was, perhaps, more mature to simply try to forget about it and do his appointed work.

 

*    *    *    *    *   

 

By late in the morning everything was packed up and all the trailers and trucks were packed and ready to move. It was fairly standard now for Rhys to ride up in the Studebaker with Jack. Angel had proved so fond of driving the trucks that she insisted on it. Vaughn, for his part, was more than content to ride with his lady love.

It was silent in the car long enough after they started driving at the head of the caravan that Jack knew something had to be the matter. “Rhysie, baby… what’s on your mind? You’re doing the quiet thing.”

Rhys said softly, “It’s fine, Jack… really… I’m fine.” His gaze was turned out the window.  

Mile after mile the silence carried on. Jack occasionally cleared his throat. He also tried engaging Rhys in lighting them a smoke. The younger man lit the cigarette and took a long drag from it, silent after he passed it back.

Jack finally said, letting frustration creep into his voice, “Look. Something is bothering you. I can tell… and you ain't that hard to read.”

Rhys pressed his lips together in a tight line before saying, “I don’t want to talk about it.”

Jack’s eyes narrowed in anger. “Rhys, we _just_ got over a lot of shit caused by the things we don’t like talking about. You’re clamming up again.”

Though Rhys thought it was charitable of him to say ‘we’ instead of ‘you’, it still did not incline him towards opening up. “This is different.”

“The hell is,” Jack said, turning grumpy from the frustration. “You gotta talk sometimes, Kiddo. Even when you don’t like doing it. So you talk and tell me what’s on your mind, or I pull this car over and we don’t go anywhere until you do.”

Rhys sighed, not wanting to cause any sort of scene so soon after getting back together, “I’m not a snitch.”

Jack groaned and asked, “About what, kid? Come on. Please? I’m trying here! Do I have to beg ya?”

“Someone… a person… of your employ… does not like me… and it bothers me.” Rhys tried to remain as cryptic as possible.

“Who?” Jack said, more demanding than he intended to be.

“I _told_ you… I’m not a snitch,” Rhys insisted, his brows furrowing in displeasure.

“Uh… Rhys, doll, _baby_ … I honestly don’t care if my people don’t like you. I don’t even care if they don’t like _me_. I’m not going to fire someone because they looked at you askance, kid.  So spill it. Who has it out for you?” With a lascivious wink Jack added, “Talk to daddy.”

“Athena,” Rhys sighed, glad to be unburdened in spite of feeling like a tattling child, especially when Jack was insistent on calling himself daddy.

Jack frowned a little before asking, “How do you _know_ she doesn’t like you? She looks at everyone like she hates them.”  

Rhys grumbled, “She hasn’t cared for me since day one. I asked her why… she said I was a whore and a gold digger and implied I was merely taking advantage of you. What _is_ she to you?”

Jack replied as he checked his rearview mirror, “She an employee… and we’re friends. We’re not like ‘cocktails and high conversation’ friends. We’re _old_ friends. She joined this outfit after I did… but long before I took things over from Harold. She’s always had my back. I’ve always had hers. You know, uh, when I talked to you earlier about the guys who showed Lilith the door… she was one of those guys.”

“Have you fucked her?” Rhys asked, abruptly, with a hint of an accusatory tone.

Jack gave a hearty, drawn out laugh in response. He had to wipe a tear from his eye from laughter, “Does she look like she takes dick, Rhys? Hell no.”

Rhys nodded to that, “I didn’t think so but… I mean… I mostly like men and I’ve had sex with women. It… happens.”

“Yeah, I suppose,” Jack shrugged. “So she called you a whore and a gold digger, eh? I’ll talk to her about it.”

“Ugh, Jack. _No_ . that’s exactly the opposite of what I want you to do. I want you to do nothing about it. Just leave it be. Let her hate me. At least i know _why_ now.”

“She’s just protective, Rhys.” Jack’s voice was far softer than normal.

“You don’t have to explain… I get it. It’s not… like she’s not right.” Rhys sank down in his seat to wallow in self loathing.

“You aren’t a gold digger. I know you work hard.” Jack reached a hand over to lay it on Rhys’ thigh. “And you’re done whoring… so it's not true.”  

Rhys gave him a small smile. “Thanks, Jack.”

 

*    *    *    *    *   

 

They made camp for the night in a little town on the edge of nowhere. Supper was a relatively light affair of roasted chickens, beans, and biscuits. They chose to eat in Jack’s trailer along with Angel. Rhys did enjoy getting to spend time with her. Jack didn’t have a table in his trailer needing too much space for his things so Angel sat on the bench while Rhys sat in the spare chair that had been pulled up to the edge of the desk across from the Ringmaster.

The pleasure that Angel seemed to take in Rhys’ company was a sure balm against the coldness of Athena.

Jack informed Angel with a grin as he laid the bone of a chicken leg down on his plate. “Rhys is going to try aerial contortion again.”

Angel’s eyes widened with pleasure, “oh Rhys, that’s fantastic. I can’t wait to see.”

Rhys smiled wanly, “I make no guarantees… it's been a few years. It might take me some time to work up to it…”

Jack said, “I’m going to order the silks once we get into town… to have them waiting once we get into the next town. After Fyrestone . What color do you want, kitten?”

Rhys said without taking any time to think about it, “Blue… like a royal, dark blue… if that’s… okay. You know you don’t have to pay for them. I’ve saved up some of my pay and I’m more than happy to…”

Jack shook his head, “Nah. I’ll pay for 'em. Don’t you keep minding what Athena said, okay?”

Angels ice blue eyes went from her father to Rhys. She asked, cautiously, “What did Athena say?”

With a sigh, Rhys said, “She thinks I’m with your father for his money.” He mashed his beans around on his plate with his fork, looking down at them to avoid making eye contact with Angel or her father.

“I’m sorry Rhys. She’s one of Dad’s oldest friends and she is really devoted to He and I...  Give her time. I’m sure she will come around.”

With a faint nod Rhys said, “Yeah… I’m sure…” he looked up with a smile, “It’s all alright anyway. I don’t need everyone to like me. If you both do… and I have other friends here. It’s fine.”

With a soft smile Jack said, “Athena will come around. Or she won’t. But don’t let it bother you. Okay? And don’t worry about me spending money on you. I’ll get you some nice blue silks and we’ll see if we can't get you back in shape for it.”

“You’re part of our family now, Rhys.” Angel declared with finality. “Athena… she is too. Don’t you worry. I will work on her. She’s not a bad person.”

Rhys said, “It means a lot to me that you feel that way.” The thought of her talking to Angel seemed preferable to Jack attempting it. As much as he had come to love Jack, his diplomacy skills did not seem very robust. “Just make sure she knows I’m not a snitch.”

 

*    *    *    *    *

 

Two days later and they were all set up outside the sleepy little town of Fyrestone for the next weekend’s performances. Rhys was thrilled to be back together with Jack and even more thrilled to sleep every night at his side. In the mornings he almost always woke up to find one of Jack’s arms around him protectively. It was blissfully simple.

He had already done his chores. He was doing all the work for the doves and rabbits this week as show of gratitude to his brother. After that he carried all of his own laundry down to the sweet-faced, middle aged woman that did the laundry. When he was finished with that he did the same for Vaughn as well as Jack. He also tidied both trailers, even though at present the O’Byrne’s trailer merely served as a mutual lounge, closet, and dressing area.

Once that those matters were settled he got down to the business of working out. The best person to do that with was, naturally, the strong man. LB was short for, as he had learned from Gortys, Leopold Bartholomeus and he held the surname of Gustav. Rhys liked him and his diminutive lady love quite a bit.   

He was taciturn and straightforward, and seemed to only speak when he felt that he had something of import to say. The large man seemed to like Rhys in return, though it often displayed itself in a sort of fond dismay at his frequent foibles.

The strong man was more than happy to help Rhys with his work outs or give him pointers. This day, he kept an eye on Rhys with a mildly patronizing smile while he perfected his bent press, one handed, with a massive dumbbell.

Rhys for his part, was working with a very tiny pair by comparison and appreciated the encouragement from the Swedish born giant. The massive oblique muscles and generally overbuilt physique of a strong man was never quite to the contortionist’s taste in men, but he did have a vast admiration of it in the same way that one might appreciate a great piece of sculpture or art.

They worked out in the shaded shelter of a yellow and white striped tent. It’s flaps were kept open to admit as much breeze as there might be, though it was still a typically hot day.

“Keep it up. Only ten more. You will be strong enough to climb those curtains again in no time,” he boomed in his loud, resonant voice.

“They’re not curtains… but thanks… I wonder if I could get someone to hang up a rope to try climbing that. That would help. Maybe in the big top,” Rhys mused.

“Good idea… just get someone to watch you so you do not fall.”

Rhys blew out a breath, “Psssshhhhhhhh. I wouldn’t fall.” Finished with his final repetitions, he set the dumbbells back in their appointed place in the tent.

“Do not worry, skinny one,” LB reassured, “I will be there to catch you if you fall.”

“You’re the best, LB.” Rhys grinned.

Janey springs appeared inside the tent with a determined stride. Upon seeing the strong man and the contortionist she gaily called,  “Hey there, boys! Afternoon LB… Hey Stretch. Just the guy I was looking to see.” She was wearing a sweat stained, man's tank top that showed off her strange series of black and red tattoos that went up her right arm. They appeared to be the silhouettes of alligators or maybe crocodiles; Rhys could never tell the difference between them. There were maybe six in total and each one had a red X through the center across their form.

She was, as usual, smudged with grease and covered in bandages with a red headband that kept her short, blond hair out of her face. He knew from seeing her at different times that she also was badly burned on part of her body, but he never felt comfortable asking after other people’s deformities.

Rhys was presently mopping sweat from his brow with a towel that he draped around his neck. He got up and went to pour himself a big cup of water. “Me? What can I do for you, Springs?”

“I was hoping that we might have a little bit of a chat, Rhys,” She replied with her typically cheery tone.

Rhys was uncertain of her motives, “Uh… sure… Hey LB. Thanks as always. I’ll see you.” He gulped down the cup of water and set it aside.

LB said only a simple, “Bye,” and returned practicing his feats of strength.  

Rhys followed her out of the tent. “Is something wrong?” He asked, as she lead him off down along the scattered trailers.

“It’s… a private matter… if you don’t mind… would you come to my trailer?” There was a bit too much hope in her bright, friendly eyes.

“Ahhh... err... I don’t think I should.” Rhys paused and let her walk a few steps in advance of him, “Athena… she’s not real keen on me.”

Springs sounded strangely insistent, “She’s… not in. Just please, come?”

Rhys smelled a set up. Not only would he not progress, he took a few steps back. “Oh no, no, no… if you want to come talk to me… come talk to me in _my_ trailer. Something isn’t right here.”

The blond woman sighed and said, “I just wanted you two to try to talk to each other.”

“A-HA,” Rhys crowed, triumphantly and threw up his arms. “I knew something was up. Is Angel in on this?”

Springs was not particularly adept at lying. A sort of squinty eyed expression came over her face, though she didn’t speak.

“There’s nothing to gain from tricking us to sit in a room together. She doesn’t know me, but she’s decided what and who I am. I deserve better than that,” the contortionist asserted.

The mechanic made one last attempt to get him to come, “I’m sure you’d get along if you just gave each other a chance. She’s… grumpy… but…”

He cut her off with a shake of his head, “I like you. You’ve been nice to me since I came here… and I appreciate that, but _she_ dislikes _me_. Not the other way around. She’s never once made an attempt to engage me in a friendly way to find out who I actually might be. So if she wants to come and find me to apologize later after I wash up, I will be in Jack’s trailer waiting for him to come back from what passes as civilization down here. As that is highly unlikely, I’ll see her when I see her.”   

Janey said, letting her disappointment be plainly written on in her expression, “Alright, Rhys. You can’t blame me for trying though, eh?”

With a sad smile, Rhys said, “Not at all. Just do me a favor… and tell her that I said that I am no longer a whore, though I’ll never count myself ashamed to have been one. Also, I never was a gold digger. I have always worked hard and used what I made to take care of the people I care about… and I am _not_ going anywhere and eventually she will have to get used to it.” He dipped his head to her with an air of finality to their conversation. “Good day to you.”

Janey’s brows lifted as she listened to Rhys’ words. She replied, a note of moroseness to her voice. “Alright. You… have a good day, too.”

Rhys smiled, “I will.” Pleased with himself, he walked away with his head held high.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this chapter is so long and rambling. >.>


	18. Lost and Found

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rhys worries when Jack does not return from his day out in Fyrestone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It has been a while! I had some other things I wanted to write but this story is most assuredly still ongoing. :D
> 
> *EDIT* I fixed the weird double post thing! Eeeeep thanks for pointing it out guys!

Rhys had finally admitted to himself that he was pretty excited about the silks coming. Most of his time since they settled in Fyrestone was occupied with working out and climbing rope to be sure that when they arrived he would be able to not make a fool of himself.

As it was Wednesday, Jack had gone to town to do his usual bit of business. Though he was expected back roughly around four o’clock, Rhys decided it was premature to worry when he did not return. After feeding the rabbits and doves, he retired to Jack’s trailer to tidy it up and prepare for a splendid night of dinner and love making.

When that was done and Jack had still not returned, he went to his own trailer to do some organization of his cleaned laundry.

It was coming on seven when he finally got truly worried. He left the trailer and set off across the grounds to see if Jack had yet returned and just failed to send for him.

Finch and Kroger were sitting side by side having a drink in a pair of wooden folding chairs as they often did when off duty. They had taken to parking their trailer next to Rhys and Vaughns as the pair were quiet neighbors now that they both were not usually located in their own trailer anymore.

Things had not become any less frosty between them since the resumption of Jack and Rhys’ relationship and he did not assume that any of that would change now, nonetheless they were close at hand so he walked up to them.

They were dressed casually, just wearing their undershirts in spite of the fact that it was cooling down as evening wore on. Finch had rolled his slacks up to his knees to help stave off the heat. A bottle of whiskey was being passed between them, currently resting in Finch’s grasp.

“Heeeey fellahs,” Rhys said, a tad nervously. He seldom spoke to them and they did not often speak with him either.  

Finch stared up at Rhys with an unimpressed expression. “Hey,” he said, in his deep voice.

Kroger was generally the more talkative of the two, it seemed. He looked around himself to see if anyone else was nearby before saying, “Whacha want, Stretch? You don't normally come slummin’ with the clowns.”

Rhys inhaled and said, trying to sound casual, “You guys seen Jack? Do you know if he’s back from town yet?” He folded his arms across his chest and tried to stand casually.

“Nah,” Finch said with a shrug.

Kroger said, “We ain’t seen the boss since yesterday.” He raised the fingers of his right hand to his face and twirled at the thin, curly moustache that graced his upper lip.

In his clown persona, Kroger appeared as a formerly rich aristocrat who had, like so many in the stock market crash, fallen on hard financial times. He wore a mockery of an old fashioned suit covered comically in large patches of mismatched fabric along with a monocle. It went over well especially in the more impoverished areas they traveled through where the always poor liked to laugh at the formerly rich.

Finch, on the other hand, was a more traditional clown. He wore a ridiculously large ruffled collar and a baggy body suit ruffled in vibrant colors at the cuffs and legs. He also favored the pointy hat bedecked with pom poms.

Finch snorted and his lips curled up on only one side in an unfriendly smirk. He said, with obvious implication, “You two havin’ another lover’s spat?”

“Ah ah ah,” Kroger sat up a little straighter and gently advised his companion, “That ain’t any of our business.” His voice went down to a murmur that Rhys could nonetheless hear, “Don’t go getting us in trouble, baby.”

Rhys teeth clenched together and his lips pursed as his eyes narrowed, “No… for a matter of fact we are not having any trouble. I’m just worried about him. He never… stays out this late. He didn’t say he’d be gone longer than normal.”

With a shrug of his shoulders, Finch said, “Maybe ask Angel. We don’t know anything about Jack’s business. That’s the way he likes it. That’s the way we like it.”

“Fine,” Rhys said. “Thanks anyway.” He exhaled and walked off, turning the corner around their trailer to head for Angel’s.

“Maaaaaaan, I can’t stand that guy.” Kroger said, loudly. “Thinking he’s all better than us. Dirty, low-rent prostie son of a bitch.”

Finch replied in a soothing voice, “Don't get all worked up about him. Boss’ll probably get tired of him eventually.”

Kroeger added, laughing, “Yeah when he realizes he’s gotten the clap from the dirty slut.”

Both men had a bit of a laugh together.

Rhys stormed off furiously, regretful that he even heard that. Maybe they intended him to. Though he desperately wanted to convince himself that it was just jealousy on their part, he knew that was not the case. They were a very devoted couple who spent almost all their time in each other's company.

As he neared Angel’s trailer he almost thought about turning around and leaving when he saw Athena. She was sitting on the ground with a long cloth spread out in front of her. On it was the belt on which she wore her throwing knives when performing. She was hunched over holding one of the blades which glinted and shined while her other hand worked it expertly with a whetstone to sharpen it.

She looked up from her labor and fixed her eyes on Rhys. It was too late to leave now.

“What do you want?” She said in her typically brusque fashion. Her blue eyes watched him with warily.

Rhys did his best to seem cold and casual. “Nothing from you, certainly,” he said with a shrug of his shoulders before turning his back on her to climb the stairs to Angel’s trailer.

The whetstone resumed its scraping against the blade. “She’s not in,” Athena informed him.

Rhys turned and made his way down the few stairs. “Do you know where she is… or have you seen Jack?”

Pausing again, Athena looked up. “I haven’t seen Jack since he went to town this morning. Angel was with Gortys earlier. Not sure where she is now.” She shrugged and looked back down at her work.

As he turned to leave Athena said, “Hey… Rhys…”

Though he expected an apology or other formal acknowledgement of their disagreements that might move them towards a more meaningful relationship, one did not come. Athena merely said, “Your fly is undone.”

Rhys lips scrunched down into a frown as he quickly yanked up the tab on his zipper; turning away in mortification. He hurried away with no farewell.

Instead of seeking out Angel, he decided just to head to the chow tent. She would likely be there and if not he could gather information more expediently.

Angel was just leaving the tent when he arrived. She looked lovely as always. She was wearing a pair of slacks she had cut off at mid thigh as well as a long, floral printed top that left her arms bare. “Angel, Hey...”

“Rhys. Have you seen my Dad?” She turned and walked casually in his direction.

“No.” Rhys shook his head with an anxious frown, “That’s why i was looking for you. He’s still not back yet.”

“Huh. That’s not like him.” She did not seem quite as concerned as Rhys felt the situation warranted, but she did know him much better. “I tell you what… I have a couple things I need to do… but in an hour, I’ll meet you at your trailer and I’ll drive you down to town if he’s not in by that time. He’s probably just lost track of time.”

Rhys nodded, “Alright… I’ll see you in an hour, then.”

“Remember the rules,” Angel said firmly, “Cover up all the tattoos and put on a proper suit.”

Rhys chuckled in response, “Yeah, I know… don’t go out looking like the circus trash we are.”

She gave him a friendly clap on the arm and hustled off towards her trailer.

Rhys returned to his trailer which unfortunately meant passing Kroger and Finch again. He ignored them and passed by as quick as he could. Once inside he went through his clothing and started to change into his suit. Instead of a tie, he wore an ascot that he made sure covered the tattoo on his neck. A little bit of additional pomade was applied to his auburn hair.

For the sake of distracting himself, he picked up the book that Vaughn had left on the small table. It was a biography on the life of Nicola Tesla. Though he tried to read it to pass the idle time, he found his mind could not focus on the words. Giving up after fifteen minutes, he tossed it back on the table with a sigh and took to pacing around the trailer.

Eventually, he heard Angel’s voice. He glanced out his window to see her talking to Kroger and Finch. She was dressed quite modestly. The dress she wore was long sleeved and its hem fell at her ankles. The light fabric was a sunny yellow color. Her long, black hair was pinned up under a matching, yellow cloche hat.

A faint growl of frustration at the very thought of the hateful clowns came from the back of his throat before he rose to give himself a look over in the mirror. Satisfied that he looked like a normal member of society, he headed out of his trailer. Not wanting to look at either of the clowns he waited by his door for Angel to come around.

“It’ll be just a few minutes, Rhys,” Angel said when she eventually appeared. “Kroger just needs to get dressed.”

Rhys’ eyes widened, “What? Why Kroger?”

With a shrug of her shoulders, Angel said, “I always have to bring him when I go out to town. Plus… he knows how to drive. If Dad is… incapable of driving, someone will have to drive one of the cars back.”

“Alright,” Rhys shrugged and agreed. “We need to get going so I hope he hurries up.” He folded his arms and leaned his shoulder against the trailer, frowning.

Angel laid a hand gently on his arm. “I’m sure he’s fine, Rhys.”

“I know, I just want to get going.” Rhys grumbled.

Kroger’s voice could be heard giving a soft and surprisingly tender goodbye to his lover. “See you later, baby doll. I’ll be back as soon as I can. Don’t wait up for me though. You need your beauty rest.”

Rhys rolled his eyes at the smooching and humming sounds and clenched his teeth.

Kroger came around the trailer a short time after and said, “Alright, Angel. I’m ready. Let’s get going.”

Angel nodded and said, “I’ll drive…” When they got to the car, a decidedly less flashy, older model oldsmobile, Kroger got into the front passenger seat as though he were entitled to it, further deepening Rhys’ ill mood. Not wanting to seem childish, however, he let it slide and got into the rear seat behind Angel.

The car was silent for a while. Rhys leaned forward and said, “Try the radio.”

Kroger said, churlishly, “No… ain’t going to be anything on it but a bunch of Jesus shit.”

Rhys said, “I need something to occupy my mind.”

“Pretty vacant up in there, eh?” Kroger smirked over his shoulder.

Before Rhys could rise to the bait Angel turned her head and gave Kroger a look, “Knock it off, Josef, you’re being a child, and you’re older than both of us.”

Kroger squinted and looked over at Angel, “Sorry Angel, Sweetheart.” He looked over his shoulder at Rhys and said. “I’ll turn it on, but I’m tellin’ you… not gonna be anything good.” He leaned forward and did as he was bid. The radio buzzed and he turned the dial trying to find something beyond various degrees of static.

Sure enough, when they finally did get a signal it was the unaccompanied voice of a fire and brimstone preacher talking about the hellfires that await the unrepentant sinners of the land. “See? What’d I tell you. I got enough of this garbage from the priests growing up. Enough to last a god damn lifetime,” Kroger grumbled.

Rhys snorted, “Alright, alright, turn it off. I already know where I’m going in the afterlife if it exists. I don’t need to be reminded.”  

Angel looked at Rhys in the rearview mirror with a smile, “Dad says it's all just fairy tales made up by people who wanted to fleece other people and convince them to give them their money. He says sometimes that he should have become one of those charismatic preachers you find down here and that religion is where the real money is at.”

“Your father’s a wise man,” Kroger said as he leaned his arm out the window. “It’s all just about controlling’ people. What they do… who they fuck… Pardon my language, Miss Angel.”

“Oh please, it's nothing i haven’t heard a million times before.” Angel’s eyes rolled.

“It’s the hypocrisy I can't stand.” Rhys sat forward and leaned on the back of the front seat. “The same priest that made me do penance for jerking off and having unclean thoughts got me drunk on communion wine and fucked me in sacristy when I was fifteen.” It was only after saying it that it occurred to Rhys he may have divulged more information than he should have.

Kroger’s head shook, “Maaaaaan. Fuckin’ Priests. Dirty old sons of bitches.”

Rhys lapsed into silence after that and for a long time no one said anything.

Fyrestone was a town that had clearly seen much better days. The whole drab affair seemed like it had been hit exceedingly hard by the depression. There were more than a few boarded up businesses that had never recovered. They left the town feeling like a sad shell of what it once might have been. Roosevelt’s New Deal did not seem to have done much for the town.

It grew dark as they drove up and down the road in search of any sign of the Studebaker.

Kroger observed, “I’m really gonna laugh if we missed him on the way goin’ out and he’s just sittin’ home wonderin’ where the hell we all are when we get back.”

Rhys glowered at the back of his head and said, “Best to find out, right? He could be in trouble. He could need us. Just… shut up and watch your side for the car.” His one good eye relentlessly searched the streets as Angel drove slowly.

The clown looked back out the window and muttered something under his breath before again looking out of the window.

“It’s going to be okay, Rhys, I’m sure,” Angel said with muted optimism.

“Yeah, I’m sure you’re right,” He replied, though he felt no ease.

They were getting towards the Southern outskirts of the town when the spotted the Studebaker. It was parked outside an establishment that called itself the ‘Crescent Moon Saloon.’ It was an especially ramshackle building in a town full of disrepair.

Angel parked the car. “See? He’s probably just blowing off some steam and having a drink. I’d… better stay in the car.”

Rhys nodded his agreement, “Why don’t you stay with her Kroger, I’ll pop in and just make sure he’s alright.”

With a shrug, Kroger said, “Sure… whatever… fine by me.”

Rhys exited the vehicle and walked up to the door. He took in a deep breath, starting to worry now that Jack would be drunk and difficult. It made him acutely nervous, but he pushed that down as he opened the decaying door.

For as bad as it looked on the outside, it was worse inside. Rhys’ nostrils were immediately flooded with the stale smells of tobacco, liquor and sweat. The inside space was a rectangular with a door to the back room behind the old, chipped and scratched wooden bar. Before the bar were a few simple stools. There were a couple tables. This place was probably at its peak well before Prohibition of alcohol.

There was no sign of Jack. There were only four people in the entire bar. One patron sat at the bar, hunched over his drink and two more dirty farmhands sat playing cards at the corner table. A spittoon was settled next to them and one leaned over and spit into it.

The bartender was a greasy, blond-haired man with a smattering of five o’clock shadow on his pinched face. He had a cigar sticking out of the corner of his mouth and he frowned as Rhys appeared. The others in the room turned to look at him as well.

It made the contortionist feel distinctly over dressed. “Ah… excuse me. I… I… was… looking for the gentleman… who owns the automobile parked outside. The studebaker. Was he… by chance… in here?”

One of the men playing cards laughed and other than that there was a thick, uncomfortable, period of silence.

The barhand took his cigar from out of his mouth and knocked the ash off of it behind the counter, not bothering with the small tin tray that was set on top of the bar. He looked suspiciously at the well dressed Northerner in front of him. His voice was low and deep, “City boy with a scar on his face? Yeah… he was in here earlier. Got hisself too drunk and got a little rowdy. The boys hadda show him some manners and the sheriff picked him up a couple hours ago. Prolly in the drunk tank at the jail now, I reckon.”

Rhys’ brows arched at this before he frowned. This wasn’t good. Jack had promised he would stop drinking so much. This was not the place to dwell on such thoughts though. The men looked pretty unfriendly. “Well… thank you… very much… I’ll be going… we’ll take the car as well.”

The man replied, “Good… If I were him, I wouldn’t be commin’ back here any time soon, ya hear?”

“Yes Sir… I understand.” Rhys said before he turned and walked out. He walked quickly back to the car and leaned down to talk into the passenger window. “He’s in the drunk tank, apparently… at the county Jail. Got drunk and it sounds like there may have been a fight.”

Angel made a growls of frustration, “God damn it! I’m going to kill him.” She took the keys out of the ignition and got out of the car.

Kroger said, “Calm down now… Let’s just drive over there and see if they’ll let us take him back.”

Rhys stood back, folding his arms and watching their exchange.

“Josef,” Angel said with a grimness to her voice, I want you to take the oldsmobile home. Rhys and I will go to the jail.”

“You sure?” Kroger’s brow furrowed, “Jack wouldn’t like it if I left…”

Angel cut him off, “I don’t really care what Dad likes right now. I have Rhys with me. Take the car, go back to camp, and don’t tell anyone anything.

“Sure thing, Miss Angel. You’re the boss… well close enough.” He scooted himself into the driver’s seat and she passed him the key through the driver seat window.

“Thank you,” Angel leaned down into the window and gave Kroger a kiss on his cheek. “Whatever happened… Dad’s going to be really embarrassed when he sobers up. I don’t want this getting around.”

“Okay,” Kroger replied, “You sure he can take care of you if anything happens?” He seemed to ignore Rhys’ look of annoyance.

“I can take care of myself, now. Remember? We’ll be fine.” She patted his shoulder.

“Alright, alright… You come and talk to me when you get back. I don’t care how late it is. I won’t be able to sleep ‘till I know you’re home.”

“I will,” she promised.

“Night, Angel… see ya, Rhys.” Kroger fired up the engine.

Rhys gave him a half hearted wave as Angel stepped back and he started off down the street. When the car was gone from view Angel surprised him by wrapping her arms around him in a tight hug. “Has this happened before?” he asked her as he closed his arms around her.

“Not in a long time,” she sighed, “Not since Nisha got sick.”

Rhys sighed loudly before he asked, “Do you know what could have set him off this time?”

“No idea.” Her head shook and she pulled away from him. “Come on. It’s gross and spooky here. Let’s go to the jail.”

Rhys nodded and got into the passenger seat while Angel went around and got into the driver's seat.

They drove quietly back towards the part of town where they had seen the jail. It was across the street from a school house, a small library, and the town’s sole municipal building near the center of town.

Whatever resources the town had were invested in keeping this small main street relatively tidy, but it still bore that same mark of depressed emptiness. The streets were fairly empty as it was getting late and decent folk had to wake early for whatever work could be found.

Pulling the car over, Angel said, “Remember…”

Rhys said, “I don’t need to be reminded. Law men scare the shit out of me. I’ll behave.” He opened the car door and got out of the car.

The building was freshly whitewashed, but it was a very small building. Rhys held open the door for Angel to pass through before him, like a proper gentleman.

As soon as they entered the bell clanged and the deputy behind the counter looked up at them, lowering his copy of the newspaper to do so. He was a clean-shaven, powerfully built man man with dark-brown hair that was cut into a crew cut. His watery, gray eyes regarded them both with suspicion from his tanned face.

Rhys stammered, suddenly full of sharp anxiety in the face of the law man, “Good.. uh… evening… officer… Sir.” He abruptly stopped speaking and just stared dumbly.  

“Deputy Andrews. What can I do for you folks?” The deputy enquired, folding up his paper, though it seemed to annoy him to have to actually do some work.

Angel stepped forward and removed her yellow hat. Her lashes fluttered and she looked down demurely before speaking, “Deputy Andrews, I do fear that an officer may have apprehended my father down at the Crescent Moon Saloon for a shameful spot of public drunkenness.” Her eyes filled with tears suddenly.

Unsure if she was acting or sincere, Rhys stayed quiet and folded his hands in front of himself.

The deputy looked at her and offered her his handkerchief, “Please don’t cry miss. Sheriff picked him up on a bit of drunken and disorderly conduct. He’s sleeping it off in a cell, I’m afraid.”

Angel’s tears intensified as she dabbed at her eyes with the cloth. “He’s been so distraught since Mama passed… I’m so sorry he’s caused you such trouble. Please, if you’ll just release him to us we’ll take him home and we won’t ever bother you again.”

Rhys made a point of looking suitably sad, though he was not half the actor Angel was. He was downright impressed by her ability to cry on command.

The deputy sighed, “Miss… I think it’s best if he he stayed here. We’ll release him in the morning… He’s a big fellah and he’s out pretty hard now.”

Angel hunched over, now overtaken with sobbing, she turned and put her arms around Rhys, who instantly moved to comfort her, “There there, now… we can… come back in the morning,” Rhys said, with affected sadness.

“Alright… look now… If you and your…” He looked at Rhys, unsure of how to refer to him.

Rhys reflexively stated, “Uncle.”

“You and your uncle can load him into your automobile… you can take him home tonight… but mind you tell him not to get into trouble in our town again,” The officer’s voice was stern.

Angel turned with wide, wet, blue eyes at that pronouncement, “Oh thank you Deputy Andrews. We will… we’ll take him back and you won’t ever see us again, I promise!” She dabbed at her eyes again.

“Going to warn you both, he doesn’t look so good. Got in a little fight with some of the local boys who thankfully ain’t pressing charges. Follow me.” The deputy went into the back room and the pair followed after him.

You could smell Jack before you could see him. It wasn’t a pretty smell or sight. He was sitting on the bench, propped against the wall of one of the two small cells. The other was empty. It seemed he had thrown up all down the front of his shirt, which also was caked with dried blood. One of his eyes was blackened and his nose was quite possibly broken and crusted around both nostrils.

It was hard for Rhys to tell if Angel’s tears were still acting or sincere when she saw him, “Oh, Dad.”

He seemed out cold.

“You sure you can manage him?” The deputy asked dubiously as he unlocked the cell. “I ain’t touching him. You can still come back tomorrow if you prefer…”

Rhys said, “We can manage, Deputy, sir… we’re… very thankful for your… leniency and … for letting us take him… thank you.” As soon as he was allowed in he entered into the cell and put an arm around Jack.

Moving to Jack’s other side, Angel grabbed his arm and the two of them hefted him up, to the apparent surprise of Deputy Andrews. It was not easy, but the pair of them worked at maneuvering him out of the cell and then the building.

Angel sniffled, her voice sounding small and meek, “We won’t forget this Sir. Thank you.”

Rhys echoed her words, “Thank you, sir.”

Deputy Andrews nodded, “No trouble Miss, Mister… Just mind he doesn’t cause trouble again. Not everyone in this town is so friendly to strangers, especially Yankees.” He was quiet as he watched them lug the man. As they neared the door he said, “Say… you’re from that circus setting up outside town aren’t you?”

Rhys looked over his shoulder, “Yes Sir.” There was nothing to be gained from lying about that. “Feel free to bring yourself, Mrs. Andrews and the little ones to one of our shows and we’ll get you in free for being so kind.”

The deputy smiled half heartedly as he moved around them to hold open the front door. He now seemed more curious than anything else. “Might just take you up on that. You drive safe now.”

Angel tried to hand him back his handkerchief and he just shook his head, “You keep it miss.”

“Such a fine Southern gentleman,” Angel batted her lashes at him again, “Thank you.” Once they were out the door they hustled him towards the car.

“Good night,” Andrews said and disappeared back into the little police station.

“I’ll sit in the back with him,” Rhys said. “Jack you are heavy… and you stink.”

Angel opened the car door and they carefully maneuvered Jack into the back seat, silent for now.

Jack promptly slumped over and snored loudly.

With a sigh Rhys moved around to the other seat and pushed Jack back up so that he could settle next to him. Even though he was in such a gross state, when he slumped against Rhys, the contortionist let him.

Angel’s fury exploded out of her once she was settled in the car and the key was turned in the ignition, “Of all the stupid things. I can’t believe he did this. And I can’t believe those local pricks beat him up. I have half a mind to drive back over there and kick their asses.”

“Angel,” Rhys said wearily, “No more trouble. Let’s just get him back to Camp.”

She muttered something under her breath and took off down the road.

Rhys ventured once they were a bit out of town, “I didn’t know you were such a fine actress, Angel. I was… pretty impressed.”

She glanced back at him and smirked, “I learned from the best. Dad is capable of pretending to be far more charming than he is. It comes in handy now and again.”

Within a half hour they were back at the camp.

Angel drove carefully through the scattered tents and trailers to where Jack’s was currently parked. Turning off the headlights and shutting off the Engine, she said, “Let’s get him in, quick and quiet.”

“Just help me get him inside,” Rhys said, “I’ll take care of him from there… thank you Angel.”

They got him inside and settled him on the bed. Angel wound up staying long enough to aid Rhys in getting his soiled shirt off. When she was gone, he carefully washed Jack’s face and worked off his shoes and trousers. He dragged him to the middle of the bed and covered him with a sheet. Lastly, he grabbed a bucket and set it beside the bed just in case Jack awoke with the need to retch more.

Though he was hungry, Rhys was too tired to go and see if there were still real dinner to be found. After stripping down to his boxers and undershirt he rummaged around in the cupboards. Fortunately, there was a box of Cracker Jack in the cupboard that he tore into eagerly and swiftly devoured.

The whole day had worn him out but he was reluctant to sleep. He went and sat next to Jack on the bed and stroked his sweaty hair while the older man snored and occasionally muttered in his sleep.  

A loud and insistent knock on the door made Jack stir, but only momentarily. He resumed his heavy snoring after a few moments as Rhys climbed off the bed.

“I’m coming… shhhhhh.” Rhys hissed, testily.

Though he was not sure exactly who he was expecting, he did not expect to find himself face to face with Athena.

She wasted no time in attempting to push past him, saying, “Let me see him.”

Rhys was not about to stand for this. Jack had made it clear this was his home too now, and incensed, he felt justified in putting a hand out to block her. “You just wait a minute!” It was his misfortune that as he blindly thrust out his hand he ended up putting his palm right on her breast.

Athena’s cold eyes widened and her anger was now seemed the equal of his own.

Rhys withdrew his hand as though he had touched a hot stove. Before things could escalate further he leaned down and stared into her eyes, “You listen to me. This is my home. That is my man. If you want to see him, you can, but you don’t get to march over me like I’m nothing just because you think I’m trash.” His eyes blazed with indignant anger though voice stayed quiet and even. “And keep quiet. He’s resting.”

Athena was very still and Rhys half expected her to punch him, but she did not. She glanced at the curtain to the back room and then to him and her eyes softened a bit into a regretful, almost ashamed expression. “I’m… sorry. You’re right. Please… can I just see him?”

His own expression melted into something calmer and gentler as he sighed, “Yeah.... come on back. He’s covered up.” He walked past Jack’s desk and held open the curtain so she could pass through.

She wasted no time in crossing to the bed and perching lightly on the edge of it. One of her hands reached out carefully to turn his face so she could examine in. “Angel said he was a terrible mess.”

“Well yeah… but I cleaned him up.” His brow furrowed as he watched her stroke the side of his chin. His voice held a distinct whine that betrayed how wounded her assumption had made him, “Do you really think that I would leave him like he was?”

Athena sounded distraught, “I… just…” she trailed off.  

“I’ve taken care of worse… Vaughn and I both, you know. When our Mama was dying we took care of her. It was like taking care of a baby. She couldn’t do anything for herself.”

“I’m sorry, okay?” Athena said, her tone a bit hard and guarded. “I shouldn’t have said that to you… called you those names, but Jack and Angel are some of the only family I have left. I’ve seen him hurt before. We protect each other. It's what we do… and we all know… what you do.”

Rhys leaned back against the wall, looking down his nose at her, “Did. Like I’m the only circus performer to ever make a little extra cash.”

“You were so… brazen about it. Within a short period of time it was like you had him wrapped around your finger.”

There was a tempest of bitterness in the contortionist’s voice as he said, “And what… one time hunting him down and cleaning him up after he got himself in a bad way and now you’re content that I’m a hooker with a heart of gold?”

“No.” Athena looked at him sadly, “But I think that I… at least… owe you a chance. I see you’ve taken good care of him.”

Rhys moved across and sat near Jack as well. “Thanks… It’s… all I want. A chance. I’ve never been in a real relationship with anyone… but no one’s ever made me… want to try before.” There  was a long stretch of silence before he continued, “When I broke it off with him. It was because I was scared. I was not trying to hurt him. I just wanted to let him free so he could go back to women. To something more normal.”

Athena gave a faint flicker of a smile, “Normal is overrated… I will go and get out of your way. I see he is in good hands.”

“Thank you,” Rhys accepted the small compliment graciously.

“Tell him I stopped by… I will check back in tomorrow morning. Something must be bothering him to let himself get in such a state… I’m worried.” She stood and pushed her purple hair behind her ears to keep it out of her hair.

“Me too,” Rhys responded and rose as well to walk her out.

When they neared the door, Athena turned and put out her hand.

Rhys stared at it before he reached out and took it.

Her grip was firm and her handshake was vigorous. “Take good care of him… and have a good night,” she said simply.

“I will… and uh… sorry about touching your… uh bosom before,” Rhys blurted out uncomfortably.

“First time is free. Next time I cut your hand off,” Athena said with the most awkward smile after.

Rhys realized she was making an attempt at a joke and he chuckled. “Wow… hah… so… on that note.” he drew his hand back and ran it through the hair at the back of his neck, “Good night.”

Her face resumed its normal, serious expression. “Good night.” She headed out the door and disappeared into the night.

Returning to the bedroom, Rhys curled up against Jack’s side and contemplated the strange exchange until he felt his eyes growing heavy. He awoke, much later, to the sound of Jack talking loudly, “No… no no no… “ The rest was in garbled Spanish. Rhys could not understand it.

“What?” Rhys asked, his eyes bleary. The lamp was still burning and giving off low light.

Jack was laying on his face, and moving in the bed like he were struggling. His cries got louder but no more understandable.

“Shhhhh,” Rhys put a hand on his shoulder and shook him gently, “Wake up, Jack. You’re having a bad dream.”

“No!” Jack shouted loudly. He seemed to startle himself awake. He pushed himself unsteadily up and immediately started gagging.

Rhys reached down swiftly for the bucket and held it under his face just in time to prevent him from vomiting all over the bed.

Jack wasted no time in gripping the edge of the bucket tightly and tossing up what was left of the contents of his stomach.

Rhys rubbed his back soothingly and pushed his hair back from his forehead. “Get it out.” He did not possess the strongest stomach and it was hard to resist joining him in throwing up but he kept the contents of his stomach right where they were.

Eventually he was done and Rhys promptly took it outside to dump it. He came back and wet a cloth to wipe around Jack’s mouth. “Fuck… Rhysie… you’re so good to me.”

Rhys wanted to harass him about it and probe for questions but that wasn’t the time for it now. He helped him settle on his back, propped up on some pillows. “You need to drink some water…”

“Okay... Everything hurts.” Jack said, with no argument. He lay back against the pillow with his eyes closed as Rhys left the room to get another wet cloth and a mug of water.

Rhys held the mug and tilted it slightly to help Jack drink it. He drank most of it before it was set aside and he put the wet cloth on Jack’s forehead.

“I never got to tell her,” Jack said, ambiguously with clear regret. “I never got to… fucking punch her in her God damn mouth.” Jack’s eyes stayed closed, but he seemed pretty lucid, but still very weak.

“What are you talking about? Who?” Rhys frowned as he ran his fingers over Jack’s hair.

“Old bitch finally had… the decency to die.” With that, his eyes flooded with tears and his large hands went to cover his face.

Rhys instantly knew who he was talking about and in that instant everything made so much sense. He stuttered, “Y-Your… Grandmother died? Oh… oh God… Oh Jack… I’m sorry.” He was not sorry for her death, but rather for Jack having to know about it; for him having to be reminded of the terrible things she had done to him. He bent down to hug him, even though he still smelled less than appealing.

Jack’s hands moved from his face and his thick arms closed around Rhys as he wept; a broken, piteous sound of long held in anguish.

“She never deserved you.” Rhys insisted. He tried to avoid laying against him too much, but Jack’s grasp on him was painfully tight and strong so he eventually settled against his chest; a willing captive to Jack’s greif. “You never deserved the things that she did to you.”

The thought struck him that these moments may be where this nebulous thing called love truly dwelled. The grinding flesh on flesh of sex may be a pleasure filled expression of that love, but these moments when hearts were torn open and needed gentle mending were the real test of devotion. With that realization came a wave of anxiety that he would not be equal to the task set in front of him. No words of comfort seemed adequate to the feelings Jack was experiencing.

Ultimately, he decided that words were not even necessary. He remembered a lullabye his Mama used to sing him and Vaughn to sleep with in those awful days after he lost his mother and had to get used to the loss of his eye. Without thinking twice about it, he started to sing it softly.

“Coo roo koo, cooruku, coo ru ku, coo ku  
Coo roo koo, cooruku, coo ru ku, coo ku

Oh hush thee my dove, oh hush thee my sweet love  
Oh hush thee my lap wing, my dear little bird.  
Oh, fold your wings and seek your nest now  
The berries shine on the old rowan tree  
The bird is home from the hills and valleys.

Coo roo koo, cooruku, coo ru ku, coo ku  
Coo roo koo, cooruku, coo ru ku, coo ku”

Jack’s tears had ebbed away by the time Rhys was done singing. They lay there together in the darkness like that until at last the Ringmaster again fell into deep and peaceful sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The lullaby at the end was not written by me. It is a traditional song.


	19. Heaven and Hell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rhys nurses a hung over Jack and learns some more of the Ringmaster's history.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW for child abuse.

Rhys awoke just before Jack in the morning. He very carefully got up off the man’s shoulder and laid on his back next to him so that he would not awaken him. Though he thought he was successful, he glanced over to see Jack’s eyes open. “Hey,” he said.

Jack sat up slowly, scooting backwards to lean against the wall. His voice was raw and gravelly as he asked, “Would you… get me a smoke?” There was a quiet anxiousness in his tone. He rubbed palms up and down his face. 

“Sure thing.” Rhys got up and stretched a moment before drifting out into the main room. He located Jack’s silver cigarette case and withdrew a single cigarette.  It was lit with the zippo, which was so close to needing a refill that it was a wonder he ever got it lit. He walked back with it and held it out to Jack, “Here.” 

“Thanks,” Jack said in a voice devoid of emotion as he took the cigarette and placed it between his lips to inhale and exhale the tobacco like it was life giving medicine. 

Rhys raised his hand and gestured with his thumb back behind himself, “Do you want me to get you breakfast? We need to put some food in you.”

“In a minute,” he replied. He sat hunched in bed, looking at no space of great importance. 

Rhys put on his robe and tied the front up tight. He slid his feet into his slippers. 

“I’m sorry. For everything. I didn’t… I didn’t think she could still touch me. But there she is…” He snorted, “Still winning.”

Rhys looked down at him, with an expression that struggled not to be so full of pity. “I’m not  _ mad. _ You don’t need to be sorry. How did you find out?” He found Jack an ash tray and set it on nightstand near him.

“Where are my pants... “ He looked around the room. “There's a telegram.”

“Over here,” Rhys picked them up and withdrew a Western Union telegram from the pocket. He unfolded it.

“Or yeah, you could just read it yourself.” Jack sounded only slightly grumbly. “Go ahead.” 

It was a telegram from a T. Lawrence. It read: My mthr arrvd tdy. AR hs died. Svcs on Sat. Tld mthr I wll nt go. Solidarity!

“Who is T. Lawrence?” Rhys’ brows furrowed as he looked over his shoulder.

“Timothy… Runs the ranch. Makes sure the horses get taken care of.” Jack always said these things with a casual glibness that was designed to subtly rebuff further questioning.

Though Rhys was bursting with questions, he took in a deep breath and tried to stomp them down.

Jack was looking at him askance and it made Rhys uncomfortable so he blurted, “You raise horses? You… have a ranch? Like in a Western?” 

Rhys’ eyes were lit up with such child-like excitement that it soon turned Jack’s lips just faintly upward into a sad grin as he said, “Yeah, baby boy. Old Jack is a rough and tumble rancher in the off season. I raise horses. For movies and entertainment. Ya know, show horses. Like Buttstallion.”

Rhys’ mouth hung open until he forced out, “wow.” He shook off his happy awe and chose to stay focused on the matter at hand. “This man… is a relative?”

“Yeah… he’s my cousin.” Jack made a disgusted face at the taste in his mouth, “Can I maybe… piss… and get an aspirin and some coffee before we play Rhys’ 300 ill-timed questions?” 

Rhys let Jack's rumbled chiding roll off of him and said,  “Yes. Definitely. I'll go fetch breakfast.”

He headed down to the chow tent and tried to be discrete. It was mostly empty because they had woken up fairly late. He leaned into to talk to the cook and said, “Hey, Jones. Sorry to bother you. I know I’m a little late… but can I get a big batch of scrambled eggs and some toast for the bossman? And just… I dunno whatever you have on hand for me.”

Jones was a short, squat man with twinkling green eyes and red, curling hair. He wore a grease stained apron over his shirt and overalls. He nodded to Rhys’ request, “Anything for the boss… I got some sausages and some leftover flapjacks. Kinda cold though.” 

“I don’t care, it’s fine,” Rhys replied, “Syrup makes everything better.” 

Jones nodded and tossed the cold flapjacks and sausage on a tray. “Rough night?” He asked, companionably. 

Rhys poured himself coffee in the meantime and was gratified to find there was enough hot coffee still that he wouldn’t have to ask Jones to make more. He chuckled and lied glibly, “Rough in the good way, pal.” He winked. 

A guffaw came from the cook as handed over the tray and turned away to start on Jack’s eggs. 

“Thanks a million. You’re the bee’s knees,” Rhys said as he dumped syrup all over his plate and sat down at a nearby table to eat while he waited. 

Jones said over his shoulder, “You’re a dirty flatterer, O’Byrne. But I’ll take it.” 

“It’s not idle flattery. A circus is only as good as its cooks. You’re the grease that keeps the wheels turning.” 

The man just snickered in response and went about cooking while Rhys wolfed down the syrupy pancakes and sausage. 

He was startled to find Vaughn’s hand on his shoulder, so much so that he inadvertently inhaled his sip of coffee and began coughing madly. 

Vaughn’s eyes widened and he clapped Rhys on the back, “Sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you. I just didn’t see you at breakfast and I stopped by Jack’s trailer and neither of you were in so… I came to see if i could find you.” 

Rhys took another sip of his coffee and it somewhat helped ease his coughing though it took him another good couple of minutes before he stopped entirely, “Need something?”  

Settling into the seat next to him, Vaughn said, “No.” He leaned in closer, “Is everything okay?”

Rhys knew his eyes had taken on a shifty look but he couldn’t help it. He leaned closer to his brother and said, “Why? Is there… talk I should know of?” 

“Eh… Not so much… just I saw you come in late last night. Yvette and I were doing some stargazing... And… this morning Angel seemed tight lipped… perhaps a touch upset.”

Rhys nodded, “Keep it to yourself, alright?” He kept his voice very soft, “Jack got some bad news from home and got himself drunk and arrested out in Fyrestone. The deputy let us take him home.” 

Vaughn’s heavy brows turned in an expression of disapproving concern. 

“He’s okay. I don’t want to go into details here… and Angel doesn’t know what the news was yet. Just trust me. He’s okay. I’m just grabbing him some food so he can shake off his hangover. I’ll make sure he talks to Angel, later.” Rhys stabbed a bite of sausage and pancake and stuffed it into his mouth to chew. 

“Alright… well good.” Vaughn added, sincerely, “I’m sorry to hear he had a hard night. I just wanted to check up on you.”

“Because you’re the best brother a guy can have.” He grinned at him and gave him a pat on the shoulder.  

“Aww, shut up.” Vaughn grinned. “Let me know if there’s anything I can do.”

“I will,” Rhys said with an agreeable nod. “But right now just pretend everything’s fine and it will be.” 

Jones called over to Rhys, “Eggs are up!” 

“Thanks Jonesy!” Rhys replied loudly before rising and looking back at Vaughn, “I’ll catch up with you some point later today, alright?” 

With a nod of acceptance, Vaughn rose as well. “Fair enough. See you later, Alligator.” 

Rhys replied with the companion farewell, “After a while, crocodile.” 

Vaughn had disappeared from view by the time that Rhys’ hand brushed against his pants pocket and he noticed something there that previously had not been. He pulled it free to find it was one of the illusionist’s dark-green, silken handkerchiefs in which had been wrapped a bunch of orange butterfly weed flowers. The tiny flowers scattered promptly all over the ground.  

Jones laughed good naturedly, but made no comment. 

Rhys chuckled and stuffed the empty handkerchief back in his pocket.

* * * * *

By the time he returned Jack had washed up. He didn't shave but his teeth were well brushed and his hair was tamed into its cowlick fueled swoop.

Rhys set the plate of eggs and toast and a large mug of black coffee before him at his seat behind the desk. He rubbed his arm and bid him, “Get something in your stomach. You'll feel better.”

Jack glanced at Rhys, “You're not eating.” 

“I ate there while I waited for them to fix your eggs.” Rhys sat on the bench and crossed one leg over the other. 

“Right. So…” he picked up the mug and inhaled the scent before sipping it some. 

Rhys smiled at him reassuringly, “You don't... have to talk about any of it. I won't make you.”

“Nah… I owe you. And I don’t like owing anyone… AR is Abuela Rosa. Tim’s mom and my dad were siblings, two of Super Bitch’s five children. All of which passed on taking me in when when my loser old man fucked on off out of town, leaving me with that fucking old cunt.”

Rhys winced and urged him, “Eat. It'll be gross when it's cold.”

Jack ate some of the scrambled eggs and washed them down with coffee. He dutifully bit off the end of the piece of toast. “So of course after Tassiter passed I bought the Hyperion Ranch. I wanted somewhere nice for Angel in the off season. She loves horses.”

Rhys nodded, glancing over at Jack before looking at the window again. He knew Jack didn't like being looked at while there were personal topics being discussed.

“Even with my name change, aunt Ana tracked me down. When you have money, people who once wouldn't save you from a woman they knew was a monster think it's acceptable to crawl out of the woodwork and into your life. For Angel's sake, I tried to be family to these fucks, but God they're terrible. Only one I could stomach was the kid.”

Rhys asked while Jack continued to eat. “What’s he like?”

“Tim? He’s this... skinny, gawky awkward thing. Really… bookish… nebbish… dweeby… nerdy… but I _ like  _ him. We look a fair bit alike and I saw a lot of myself in him. His old man, Doctor Lawrence is a _ real  _ domineering douche bag.”

Rhys glanced back over at him, “Yeah?” 

Jack ate another forkful of egg. When he finished swallowing he said, “Li’l Timmy can’t even habla espanol because this prick forbid his wife to speak it in front of him.”

Rhys seemed confused, “Who would do that? I’d love to know other languages…” 

“World class tool this guy is, Rhysie. I got the last laugh, though. He was going to force Tim to try to get into Med school. This, the same fucking kid that fainted during his first time watching a mare have a foal.” A very genuine look of smug mirth pulled up the corner of his lips. “So, primos Jack el guapo swooped in with  _ mucho _ dinero to save the day. Kid got to study Classic Literature at UCLA and old Jack got to give both middle fingers to Doctor Prick face. I stole his one and only son and heir. Oh man, I bet my Auntie Ana regrets  _ the hell _ out of tracking  _ me _ down.” 

Rhys’ head shook and he grinned. “You always get the last laugh, don’t you, Jack?”

Jack’s expression soured and his eyebrows pinched into their most severe expression, “Almost always. Not with my grandmother.” 

“What would you have done if you had seen her?” Rhys asked solemnly, “I mean… can’t be much satisfaction in killing an old lady.” 

“I think you underestimate me,” Jack muttered half below his breath.

Rhys shrugged one shoulder. 

Neither spoke much so Jack carried on with eating. When he was done he pushed the plate back and said, “Let’s… take a walk.”

Rhys was surprised by the offer but took him up on it. Neither said much for a while as they set off for nowhere in particular. They cleared the tents and trailers and soon were off down the quiet road. There was no sight even of a farmhouse from their current camp.

Jack's jaw was set and his lips were drawn down in a tight frown. “I’m sorry you had to come find me like that.”

Rhys says, “Don't… make it a new habit. But like I told you, I’m not mad. Just worried for you.” 

“You don’t need to be worried, Kitten. It’s all done with now.” 

Though Rhys was dubious on the factuality of that statement, he decided not to challenge him on it. “Your cousin, does he hate her too?” 

“Well no one _ liked _ her. She was venomous, controlling, cruel… But for some reason… familial duty or some bullshit, Aunt Ana stayed close with her. She was the baby of my aunts and uncles, the youngest. She knew better than to leave her son with him, but nonetheless Tim’s memories of her ain’t exactly the fondest.” 

Rhys hummed, “I suppose not. You said she didn’t like to have to speak English and him not knowing how to speak Spanish.”

“Yeah… plus… me telling him some of the shit she had put me through. He’s got more loyalty to me now than he does to his own family.” 

Rhys nodded and they fell silent a time. It seemed unwise to push him with too many questions. It would be much better to let him open up on his own. 

Eventually, they came across a copse of trees where one had fallen over. It was likely some time ago that it happened, but it was dry enough that Jack paused their walk to sit on the end of it. The road was a ways away and even that seemed empty on this hot, late morning.

Rhys settled beside him, surveying the area for signs of other living souls. There was no one but themselves and nature.

“Moxxie… I told you… was my first love… but she wasn’t… my first kiss.” Jack said with such a seriousness that Rhys reached out an arm behind him and rubbed his back. 

“Yeah?” Was all Rhys said as the pads of his fingers slid over the rough fabric. 

“Yeah.” Jack said. For a while, Rhys thought that he was not going to continue. There seemed to be some sort of internal struggle happening within the man. “There was this boy at school… his name was Anthony. He was… older than me… but… in my class because he’d been held back. Good looking boy. Athletic… strong. I kinda hated him at first because he liked to pick on me. I was… heh… scrawny by comparison.” 

Rhys folded his hands in his lap and looked off into the distance.

Jack kept his eyes on a far off point as he spoke. “Gradually… I started to like him. He started to be nicer to me. He would tell me how smart I was… and it made me so happy because… I didn’t think I was. No one else… ever thought I  was. I started helping him with his homework after school.” He went quiet again for a moment. “And then one day he told me I was handsome… and he kissed me on the mouth.” 

“Hold old were you?” Rhys asked, glancing at Jack’s solemn face only briefly. 

“Thirteen,” Jack replied as he turned to look at Rhys. His gaze soon returned to the far off fields. “It only ever happened a couple times because… a classmate walked in on us… promptly ratted us out. I got a letter sent home advising of my unacceptable, deviant behavior. I never saw Anthony again. I guess his family sent him to a different school.”

“I’m sorry,” Rhys said, his brows knit in a sad expression. For weeks now he had wondered at his lover’s history with men. All his tales were always about women.

“Yeah, so was I. The bitch made sure of that... She stripped, tied me... hands and feet… to my bed frame... and whipped me from my shoulders to my calves for… a long time. Seemed like forever. The whole time telling me… how terrible I was. How… disgusting.”  

Rhys covered his mouth with his hand and shook his head. His other hand reached down and slid his fingers into Jack’s.

Jack squeezed them back tightly and continued, “Afterwards.. she threw a handful of rice on the floor in the closet… and made me kneel on it, in the dark, for hours. She told me to pray to the blessed Virgin for deliverance from my wickedness.”  

In the face of Rhys’ horrified speechlessness, Jack continued, “It spread all around the school. It was terrible… the things people said about me… behind my back… to my face… I never had a lot of friends but… I didn’t expect… that.” Jack’s face was growing ever more flushed as he spoke. He trembled faintly, trying to keep in the emotions as he talked but they were getting the better of him. “I tried to… I ate all the pills in her medicine cabinet. She caught me at it... made me throw it all up.” Jack was rocking himself now, forward and back. Tears spilled freely from his eyes and down his cheeks. 

Rhys could feel himself tearing up as well at the madness and cruelty of it all. His thumb rubbed the back of Jack’s hand.

Jack laughed joylessly, “She didn’t punish me for that… though I was sure she would. That’s the damndest thing, you know. She wasn’t _ always _ terrible.” He turned to look at Rhys and their eyes met a moment before he was looking away again. “After that she was… kinda nice for a while. She reminded me… that killing oneself is a mortal sin… and she made a big deal about how she would take me to the circus that was coming to town.” His breath came out like a hiss, “It… never lasted though. The kindness… it always…  _ inevitably _ … turned back to cruelty… though to her it was always just  _ discipline _ .” 

Rhys released his Jack’s large hand and turned to put his arms tightly around man. His heart ached and pounded in his chest with sympathy, love, and and overwhelming desire to protect this man who always projected an aura of needing nothing from anyone.  

Turning into the hug, Jack kissed the side of Rhys’ face before whispering shakily into his ear. “I was so… dazzled by it all, ya know? The circus… The  _ costumes _ … the  _ acts _ … The night we got home, after she went to bed, I snuck out and ran away. Never saw her again after that.” 

“I’m sorry, Jack. I’m sorry she hurt you. I’m sorry no one took care of you like you deserved… but I… _ I will _ .” Rhys’ teeth clenched together. 

At that Jack’s face pressed into his shoulder and his grip on Rhys became incredibly tight as his shoulders shook with a prolonged sob. 

Rhys hugged him with all his strength, rubbing his back with a steady hand. “You got your revenge, Jack... just maybe not the revenge you wanted. You’ve lived well… on your own terms… you made your own family… and left her alone to rot… And she... She never got to see how Handsome you became… or how smart you are… or how successful… or know her beautiful granddaughter.”  

Jack started to calm at that, though he stayed with his nose wedged against Rhys’ collar, seeming ashamed for his uncharacteristic emotionality. 

“So the bitch is dead. She didn’t matter when she was living. She doesn’t matter now.” Rhys’ voice was steely and resolute, “She’s a goddamn footnote in  _ your _ story.” 

After a few long minutes Jack sat back. Even though he was teary eyed and snot-nosed as well, Rhys gave him the magician’s handkerchief Vaughn had planted on him earlier. 

The older man took it and wiped at his eyes and nose. He stared off at a distant point in nature for a long while as he slowly calmed himself. He sniffled before breathing out like a sigh, “I love you, Rhysie.”

“I love you too, Jack.” Rhys said, rubbing his nose across the cuff of his work shirt and blotting his eyes on the sleeve. “You know I don’t hold with any religion… but I still… sometimes… like to think there’s a special hell for people like her… and those like the man that took my mother.” 

Jack stuffed the handkerchief in his pocket, saying glumly, “I dunno. Sometimes… I think the only Hell is here on Earth.” 

“Then, it’s the only Heaven too,” Rhys observed.

Jack put an arm around Rhys and smiled widely in spite of his red rimmed eyes, “Heaven is your sweet little ass, Kitten… at least I’m fairly sure.”  

With a snicker Rhys gave him a gentle nudge of his elbow and said, “You know you need to talk to Angel when we get back,” Rhys said finally. “Vaughn said she seemed a little off this morning. She’s probably worried.” 

“Yeah,” Jack agreed with a sigh. “I will.” 

“So you know… no one really knows that anything happened. Angel and I kept things nice and quiet. No one that will say anything knows anything.”

Jack gave a half hearted laugh, “Thanks. You’ve got good instincts. I like that about you. Fuck… I like a lot of things about you.”

“Good,” Rhys made a point of looking him in his eyes, “Also… If ever you’re… bothered by bad memories… if you need to talk anything out… get it off your chest... I don’t want you to hesitate about doing so. Don’t… drink your feelings away. Come to  _ me _ .” 

With a purse of his lips and a sheepish little dip of his head, Jack said, “Alright. I promise.” He rose from the fallen tree trunk and helped Rhys to rise as well. “Thanks Rhys… for all of this.” 

“You’re welcome… I’m guessing you’re ready to head back?” 

“Yeah,” He sounded reluctant, “We both got shit to do, though my head still hurts like a bitch… but we got shows to prepare for.”

Rhys licked his lip lasciviously and looked at his odd eyed lover, “I’ve got a bunch of things to do as well… but maybe later tonight… if you’re all over your hangover and feeling up to it… I could take you to Heaven.” 

Jack’s lips turned up into a great, big grin. “Ohhhhhh,  _ Kitten _ , I am going to worship at your altar, Baby. You’re gonna be hearing the music of the frickin’ _ angels _ by the time I’m through with you.” With that, Jack seemed back to his normal self. That, in and of itself, was comforting. 


	20. Roots and Plants

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The show must go on!

“You sure you’re up to this?” Rhys asked as he leaned back on Jack’s desk chair, swaddled up in his black robe over his purple body suit. His hair was already expertly coiffed and he wore enough makeup to accentuate his long face. His feet, snug in their white stockings, were up on top of the desk. Between his two forefingers was a lit cigarette.

“The show must go on,” Jack muttered as he rubbed greasepaint over the his face to make the bruising less apparent. His blue and green eyes watched himself in his mirror. 

“Yeah… I guess,” Rhys agreed with a shrug. “You know… I can do your makeup for you. I’m better at it. I wore it for months when my face was healing.” 

Jack moved away to wash his hands. “Rockford,” He rumbled out the city’s name like a curse. 

“Yeah,” Rhys said. He used the excuse of taking a drag off of the cigarette to avoid speaking farther. 

“Alright… I’ll let you do it. Just be _ gentle _ . Still hurts, pumpkin.” After he twisted his hands into a towel, he leaned in and pinched the end of the cigarette to remove it from Rhys’ fingers. He took a puff before putting it out. “Come on then, make Daddy look tolerable.”  

Grinning, Rhys rose from the chair to get to work. “I’ll make you more than tolerable. I’ll make you  _ ravishing. _ ” 

“Not too ravishing. I’m still exhausted.” He settled into the recently vacated chair but kept all four of its feet on the ground. 

Rhys leaned in close and got out a touch more of the paint to dab on Jack’s face. He began blending it in with his finger tips. Though he aimed to be gentle, there was no avoiding the fact that it hurt to touch the area around Jack’s black eye and his nose. “Sorry, Jack. I know it's sore.” 

Jack grunted, “Eh, it’s fine. Nothing to be done. So hey... There is something important I need to ask you.” Though his tone was casual, it still made Rhys’ stomach clench. 

“You know we need to be at the staging area in a half hour,” the contortionist reminded. “This isn’t the greatest time… and we have to get you blended.” 

“Fine, You’re right.” Jack said, glumly. “There’s just not been a good time for… a bit…” 

Rhys paused and looked him in the eye, “Well, damn it… now i need to know… or I'll spend all night in agony wondering what you’re thinking about.” 

“I want you… and your brother… if he’s up for it… to come stay with me on the Ranch this winter.” Jack actually forced himself to smile after he said it, in what he probably hoped was a welcoming fashion but it looked a bit manic to Rhys. 

Rhys stepped back and said, “Wow… Jack…”

“Just  _ think _ about it. If you don’t want to... I’ll make sure you’re set up somewhere. I know you guys don’t have anywhere to go in particular. I’ll cover your rent, even, but I’d rather have you stay with me.” His voice went softer and higher as he trailed into the end of his sentence.

Rhys the shyness and vulnerability adorable. His own smile was obvious in its bitter sweetness as he carefully blended along Jack’s distinctive hairline. “I… need to think about it… and not because… I don’t  _ want _ to… I just have a long history of rash action and I’m trying not to live that way any more.” He wiped down his fingers on a towel before stepping away to get the right shade of paint for Jack’s lips. 

Jack grinned even though it made his lip throb. “That’s all I can ask,” He beamed a smile as he slid into salesman mode. “You think about it… but you know… It  _ is _ just like a western, eh, Pumpkin?” He was shameless in his attempts to lure Rhys. 

Rhys smirked and said, “Stop talking so I can work on your mouth… you  _ know _ I’ll  _ probably  _ come. It’s a really fine offer... I just… I don’t know what Vaughn will want to do, but I do thank you for inviting him.” 

“You’re close… I didn’t think I had much of a choice,” He winked. “I’m kidding, he’s a good kid. ”

“Shhh,” Rhys said as he started to apply the lip color, doing his best not to press it too hard. “I’d love to see your ranch. Meet your Cousin. Ride a trail in a sunset. Do you have a cowboy hat?” He asked after he’d finished.

Jack grimaced at the contact with the split in his lip but otherwise made no complaint. When Rhys was done, he said, “I actually do… I don’t usually wear it. It was a gift from Nisha… she was  _ really  _ into that whole cowboy thing. She had one too. She really loved the ranch... _and_ , you probably don’t want to hear me go on about her.” 

Rhys hastily worked out some eye makeup as their time was dwindling, “She was part of your life… so she always will be. Don’t feel bad talking about her. Or your… wife… wives? You never cleared that one up.” 

“Yeah,” Jack replied, staying still. “I had another wife… before I started going out with Nisha. Just… didn’t work out. She didn’t like my Angel… by the time I realized it I had already married her. She took off with a minimal hit to my pocket book… and I kinda decided then old Jack was done being the marrying kind.” 

Rhys located a suitable powder puff and dabbed it into the powder. “Don’t breathe in... “ He dabbed it over Jack’s face, careful to avoid his eyes. “And she wasn’t the marrying kind either, eh?” 

“Nah.” Jack’s fingers found Rhys’ hips and he smoothed his fingers over their shape in the robe. 

Rhys sidled back from his grasp, smiling, “You look gorgeous. No one will know you were injured at all. We really need to get going. Grab your hat and crop.”

Jack did as he was bid while Rhys washed his hands. He used the crop to smack his partner’s satin-clad ass with the leather nub at the end.

Rhys smirked over his shoulder said, “Save your energy for the show, pops.”

The show that night went exceptionally well. Rhys’ mouth would eventually hurt from smiling at the way  _ Handsome Jack _ stirred up the crowd; filling the Big Top with awe and excitement. 

There was such a strange dichotomy in Jack. In general, the man did not seem to give a damn what anyone thought of him. In his own mind he was unassailable. He had a great disdain for the sorts of people that came to watch circuses, even though he entirely understood the allure of the music and the drama. 

On the other hand, he seemed to feed on the energy of the sundry townsfolk, no matter how little he respected them. They transformed him from a damaged man looking down the barrel of his remaining years into a firebrand of vigor and virility. Like most things about Jack, it was love and hate colliding in unexpected ways. 

Rhys could not fathom it, though he made the attempt. He by and large adored the crowds. There was such fun to be had in signing autographs and shaking hands, or making children scream by bending himself at distressing angles. The audience were the people who paid him and kept him fed, clothed, housed. It felt right to be good to them.  

As the show wore on, it became clear to Rhys that Jack was hurting. Even through the pain, he did not miss a beat. It would cost him later. Rhys would do what he could about that when it came to it. For now he had but to do the work he was paid to do. With grace and charm he would manipulate the natural oddities of his form in time with a quirky piece of music.

They did not wind up speaking much more that evening. Jack was feeling exhausted and his head troubled him some. There would be two shows on Saturday so it made the most sense to sleep as much as they could. Rhys helped him wash up, got them both fed and put him to bed after a nice massage.

Saturday passed in a blur of preparing, performing, and trying to find time to eat and breathe during all of that. At Angel’s insistence they both went to immediately to Jack’s trailer after the show to rest. Jack made a half hearted attempt at starting some groping, but both men fell asleep before anyone could make anything of it. 

It came as a surprise on Sunday that Jack was unexpectedly peppy upon waking. Poking his head out of his door, he had the good fortune to find August.  He not so gently persuaded him to stop by the cook and furnish him and his beau with a nice meal. 

Rhys was waking up as the food arrived so he did not bother to dress. He appeared in his pale-blue and white vertically-striped boxer shorts and a white T-shirt to eat breakfast. Once settled in a chair on the opposite side of the desk from Jack’s, he poured himself a mug of the coffee. “You were really good this weekend. I’m impressed… but you need to take it easy this week, alright?” 

“Ehhhh don’t worry about me, Cupcake, I’m fine now.” He was wearing a tank top and a pair of blue jeans as he sat behind his desk. His eye was still bruised but Jack didn’t care if his employees saw him with a black eye. Most knew better than to ask him what happened. For those who had not that level of sense, Jack made up a different implausible story for each as a subtle reminder for them to stay out of his business. 

Rhys poured Jack a cup next. “Baby… I don’t think you’re fine. I think you’re doing a good job, though.” He set the kettle down and began spooning sugar into his mug. 

Jack poked at his eggs, “I’ll have all winter to relax on the Ranch. So, uh, do you think you'll be coming with me?” His eyes moved from his plate up to Rhys’ face. 

Rhys nodded, a smile spreading out over his lips, “I will. I haven’t found time to talk to Vaughn about it yet… but, I am definitely coming. I bet you have an amazing bed.” 

“Oh yeah… big old monstrous bed. Comfortable as all hell. You’ll sleep like a prince.” He smiled fondly at Rhys, “God, I’m glad you’re coming. You’re going to like my cousin. He’s a little younger than you, but he’s really into books and movies and stories. He writes, too... nonsense about elves and fairies - talking bears and shit, but he’s talented. Angel’s loves his stuff.”

Rhys stabbed a bite of sausage and chewed on it thoughtfully before saying, “I am looking forward to meeting him… and I hope Vaughn does come. I’m a little scared he won’t. We’ve not spent much time out of each other’s company.”

Jack offered a way out in a conciliatory tone as he blew on his black coffee. “If he ain’t up for it… and... If you need to stick with him… I’ll understand, but you better come visit, at least.” 

“No,” Rhys shook his head. “I’ve made up my mind.” He smiled up at Jack, his cheeks pinking just a bit. 

Jack’s lips spread into a broad smile. “You’re going to love it. I’ll take you to see movies whenever you want.”

“There’s really room for us all?” Rhys asked, squinting in nervous skepticism. He’d been in large houses but the prospect of living in one was difficult to imagine. 

“I won’t make Vaughn sleep in a cupboard if that’s what you’re asking,” Jack smirked at him before finally taking a sip from his cup.  “Have a little faith in old Jack.”

Rhys grinned, “Good. And me? Do I have to sleep in a cupboard?” 

Jack’s lips pulled up as he set his cup down and reached across the table to grab at Rhys’ tattooed wrist, “You know better than that, Dum Dum. You’re going to lay in my fricken' huge bed with me.” He clicked his tongue for emphasis.

“I can’t wait to be introduced to this bed of yours,” Rhys murmured. Jack’s hand felt warm covering his. With his other hand, he continued eating. It seemed absurd how hungry he was. 

“I’m going to re-introduce you to the bed in the back of this wagon at some point today, Pumpkin. I swear to any and all gods.” Jack said like it was a solemn oath, because it was. He gave Rhys’ wrist a squeeze before picking up his fork again and eating. 

Rhys perked up, lips twisting wryly. He raised one brow suggestively and caressed his lower lip with his tongue. “Do you really have to go? We  _ could _ just stay in and fool around.” 

Jack’s empty fork stabbed in his general direction, “None of that talk. Ah-ah-ah. I do not have time to fuck you right now. Gotta talk to some people. But… we will  _ definitely _ hold that thought.”  

Rhys says, “Yeah. Better to get a few things out of the way... I want to go… practice. Do some climbing. Before I do that I should go talk to Vaughn.” 

Jack nodded and worked on eating a piece of toast, which he washed down with coffee.

“You feeling any better?” Rhys asked him after finishing his own meal. 

“Yeah. Bit by bit.” Jack seemed uncharacteristically ashamed as he spoke, “Thanks for taking care of me. This little… ehhh, ya know, meltdown of mine… thank you for handling it right. I… am not going to make it a habit, I promise you that.”

“I’ve got your back, always.” Rhys rose and leaned forward to kiss Jack gently on the uninjured side of his lips. 

“That’s my hot little pretzel. With six feet and some change of twisty Welsh fury at my back I can’t lose.” Jack grinned as Rhys pulled away. 

After washing and dressing in casual Sunday clothing, Rhys began the hunt for his brother. He found him, easily, outside their trailer at the rabbit hutch. The magician was hunched forward feeding the rabbits.

With a spring in his step Rhys strolled up to him and said, “Brother dear. How’s your morning going?”

“Oh, Good Morning!” Vaughn said. “I'm doing very well, actually. You?” 

“I’m swell,” Rhys smiled with a bloom in his cheeks, “I uh...  _ We’ve _ been invited to stay at Jack’s Ranch for the winter… and I wanted to talk to you about it.” 

Vaughn closed the latch on the cage door before standing straight. His pale blue eyes narrowed slightly as they looked shrewdly at Rhys. “Yeah?” 

With a snort, Rhys muttered, “I didn’t say yes or no for you. You’re perfectly welcome to do whatever you want. But I have… said yes for me.” 

Vaughn smiled in an attempt to placate his brother, “I didn’t mean it like _ that _ … but wow… so you’re… super serious.” He hummed in thought a moment before saying, “Yvette and I are both not exactly… ready to move in full time. I was hoping we’d room again like always and I’d go out and visit her a bit.”

Rhys tilted his head, “You could do that from Jack’s place, couldn’t you?”

“Well yeah...but,” Vaughn hesitated before saying, “I don’t want to be a third wheel in your life…” 

“Hey… hey… hey! Come  _ on _ . You’re my  _ only _ family. I didn’t even ask him. He suggested it... He has the room. It’s apparently… a large property… with a large main home and bunk houses and barns. I’m… giddy. Horses… trails. He’ll get me a cowboy hat.”

Vaughn laughed a little and hugged Rhys against him. “Thank you. I’ll come too. It sounds… like an adventure. Plus you know how much I loved Los Angeles.”

“So you know,” Rhys said as he pulled back, though he kept an arm around his brother, “It’s okay… that you and Yvette aren’t there yet, you know?” 

He nodded, “Yeah. Thank you for understanding. No… judgement here on you being quicker about it, either. Yvette’s parents and family are on the... old fashioned side. I need to go and meet them formally, and do it like a gentleman. I’m going to go stay with them in a separate room and pretend we’re not already deep into carnal pleasures. They’re also not really fans of Catholicism so I am still not sure how to make that work, but… all the more reason not to just jump into living together.”

“I’m not a big fan of Catholicism and yet I like you just fine.” Rhys joked.

Vaughn made a sour face of displeasure. A nerve was struck and he responded with possibly undue vehemence, “Apostate.” 

Rhys was trying to speak in jest though he clearly believed in the truth of his own words. “Oh come on. Why do you still bother with it. The Church is as magic as your illusions. Smoke and mirrors and…” 

“Oh stuff it, Rhys.” Vaughn said, sharply, “Mama would have slapped the smirk off of you for blaspheming.” 

“Even as she herself was a _ lowly _ sinner,” Rhys said in retort, eyes stretching up towards his brows in a displeased roll.

Vaughn shrugged Rhys’ arm off his shoulder to face him fully. “You  _ never _ got it. Be quiet a moment and let me explain something to you. The Church was hope for her. It was love… forgiveness. I don’t even know if I literally believe there’s some like… heaven city that I’m going to be let into or not depending on how nice I am… But, I believe in loving our fellow man... And that we’re  _ all _ flawed and to  _ Him  _ those flaws are all the same. It’s just how I still connect with her, It’s how I honor her.” 

Rhys looked ashamed and ducked his head, “I’m sorry, Vaughn... I wasn’t meaning to offend you. You’re right. I don’t get it. I don’t really want to.”

“You know that’s okay.” Vaughn’s brief emotional outburst soothed itself away as quickly as it came on.  “It doesn’t matter if you believe or not… it doesn’t… really matter if I believe or not. Maybe it's just comforting rituals. Maybe it's fear of death and the great unknown, but like… I need it.”

Rhys nodded, “I know, my brother… my apologies. What I did mean though that you're charming when you're not so shy. You'll win over her family. You win over audiences…”

Vaughn looked rueful, “Thank you. Sorry for jumping on you. I just… wanted you to know.”

“It's all fine…  Do you think… maybe, I am rushing? Sharing a trailer is one thing. This is another.” Rhys chewed on the corner of his lip before saying, “I want your honest opinion.”  

“I have… concerns, definitely,” Vaughn said with the sort of blunt honesty Rhys expected of him. “You’re both hot tempered, individuals and you  _ have  _ been a bit violent with each other before. There’s also that mess on Wednesday. Though... grief… is a hell of a thing and it’s hard to blame him for getting himself in a little trouble. We had a few blackout nights, didn’t we?”

“I remember when you threw up at mama’s wake.” Rhys observed, a grin stealing over his lips.

“The look on Aunt Doris’s face. Oh God.” Vaughn looked mortified before laughing, “I put the nail in the coffin on our poor mother and our welcome with her damnable family.” 

“Oh hell, hah! We were never welcome. Don’t blame yourself for that. With how they treated us… I’d never have gone a visiting anyway.”

“Point taken… ah… hell Rhys. I’m just glad to go with you. I mean, you’re both a little Dramatic… but if you can cohabit over the winter and still feel good about it come spring, I’ll feel better about leaving you with him in the future.” 

Rhys says, “We're talking now. Like people. Like men. We both… haven our… proverbial skeletons. But we can share each other's pain.”

Vaughn added helpfully, “Don’t forget about the literal skeletons… but, ah, yeah. You know, I feel the same way about you and I, now. I think there's a lot of things we've avoided talking about for a long time. Now that… we're airing them I feel better. You never stopped being my idol, but the past few years, you know we haven't been as tight as we were when we were boys.”

Rhys said, “I know. I wish… I wish I hadn’t held you at arm’s length since… it happened.”

“I am just glad we are moving forward.” 

“Me too. Well… this is good. You’re coming with me. My morning is now going officially well.” 

“Good. “ Vaughn smiled warmly up at him before seeming to realize something and looking at his watch. “Hey... I gotta go. I'm getting my first driving lesson today and I don't want to be late for miss Angel.”

Rhys drew him in for a firm hug, “I didn't know that was today. I think I’ll wait until the Ranch. Not having to practice on actual roads appeals to me.”

Vaughn hugged him back tightly. “I can’t wait that long.  I am so nervous... but excited… but nervous.”

“You'll do great. You're good at everything you do,” Rhys assured as he patted his little brother’s back lovingly.  

“Thanks Rhys. I'll see you.” Vaughn gave him a final squeeze. 

“Get a room, Queers!” Jack’s booming voice gleefully taunted them as wandered through the campground. 

The brothers flew apart and offered him four middle fingers in return as he disappeared, laughing, behind LB and Gortys’ trailer. 

* * * * *

The majority of his day was spent in leisure though he did engage in climbing with LB’s insistence on spotting for him. With only a mild bit of cajoling, he even got Jack out to the chow tent for a sociable dinner. 

Though he was not especially talkative, Jack did seem to enjoy himself as he sat between himself and Angel. He ate some food, but mostly spent time using his left hand to slide up and down the back of Rhys’ shirt or fondling the back of his neck with open affection.

After dinner, Angel asked them to come back and rest for a while by the fire pit she had made with Athena and Janey. The night was cooler than was seasonable, so the warm fire felt especially good on the bones and muscles. Angel had laid out a blanket on the grass close by for them to sit on. She was settled, cross legged on the ends, dressed in her frilly nightgown and robe.

Rhys, who loved sweets more than was healthful, swiftly scoped out by Angel’s side a snow white tin of marshmallows and some trimmed sticks as they drew near. 

Janey and Athena sat side by side on low bench they set up on the opposite side of the flames. By Janey's feet rested a small ice chest.

The mechanic had a bottle of beer in one hand and the other was around Athena’s shoulders. 

For her drink, Athena had a mug of something, most likely tea. 

“Ladies,” Jack said with a dip of his head. 

“Hello Dad, Rhys.” Angel patted the blanket beside her. 

“Hello Boys,” Janey said, with a cheerful voice.

Athena merely nodded. 

“Hey,” Rhys took the outside of the blanket and left Jack to sit closest to Angel. 

The Ringmaster crouched down and lowered himself onto the blanket. He scooted forward, closer to the fire. “Ah, yeah… that’s the stuff.” He groaned and stretched out his back. 

“Beer for either of you?” Springs enquired cheerfully. 

“Yeah, Thanks, Janey.” Jack rumbled. 

“Sure,” Rhys agreed before looking to Angel, “I can’t help but notice you have marshmallows.” 

Janey unhooked her arm from her girlfriend’s shoulder and set her beer down. She busied herself removing beer bottles for the gentleman from the ice box. They were swiftly opened with a bottle key she kept in her pocket.

Angel grinned and said, “I do. Would you like one? I trimmed up some sticks to roast them on.”

“Yes, Oh Please.” Rhys eagerly reached over to take one of the sticks from Angel before she passed the tin across Jack to him. 

Jack’s blue and green eyes moved around the fire at the others before finally settling on his daughter, “To what do we owe all this spoiling here, kiddo?”  

As she passed Jack a stick, Angel said, “I just think you need to relax a little. Thought a fire would be good for you.” 

Athena’s voice was grim, though it occurred to Rhys that she always sounded so, “And I wish to have an opportunity to be friendly… with Rhys.” She looked at him with the perpetual intensity of her violet eyes. 

Rhys paused in the process of prizing the tin of Marshmallows open and looked back at her. “Great!” he said, a bit awkwardly. Even her attempts to be friendly were more than a little intimidating. Still, nothing could keep him from the confections so he got the tin opened and took one to put on his stick. “I appreciate it.” 

Janey stepped over and delivered each man a cold beer before picking up her own and settling back next to Athena, free hand now on the woman’s thigh. 

“Well thanks. You’re a swell bunch of dames.” Jack observed before setting the beer to rest in between his legs while he, too, armed his stick with a lump of sugar and gelatin. “I’m sure Angel already told you that my Grandmother croaked.”

Athena’s eyes widened, “Really? No… she hadn’t told us.”

Rhys noted as he moved his stick over the fire that Athena seemed to understand the significance of the comment.

“I know how private you are, Dad. I never tell anyone your personal business,” Angel said, with a hint of indignation that he would think she might.

“Sorry, Angel,” Jack replied before carrying on, “Yeah, she’s finally gone. The dragon is Slain.” Jack too stabbed his marshmallow towards the fire as his daughter affixed one to hers before offering them towards Athena.

The blade mistress took the stick and affixed a marshmallow to it. The stick was given to Janey while the Tin was passed back to Angel.

Janey alone seemed confused, “I’d say I was sorry, but as this seems to be a good thing. Perhaps… I’m sorry, and / or congratulations?” She held the stick over the fire. 

“It’s definitely congratulations.” Jack observed, “But the real point is, I’m fine now. And everything’s going to be fine moving forward. Rhysie here and his brother are going to be coming to stay with Angel and I for the off season.” 

Angel said as she smiled at Rhys, “I can’t wait to show you guys around. You’re going to love it.”

“I don’t doubt it Angel. I am terribly excited.” He looked to the pair of women on the bench, “Where do you go in the off season?” 

“Florida,” Janey said cheerfully, “During the winter I work with scooter at his sister’s shop fixin’ cars and Athena works in a Bar.” 

Jack asked as he watched his marshmallow toasting, “You guys still keeping a trailer on Moxxi’s land?” 

“We sure are.” Janey replied, “And we have big plans next year.” 

“She’s selling us a slice of it, and we’re going to build a house.” Athena spoke up. “We almost have the money together. We plan to start in the spring.” 

“Good for you. I can’t stand that swamp hole, but I’m glad you enjoy it. Tell that old clown faced bitch I said ‘hi’.” Jack said and took a swig from his beer. “She did me a good turn, recently. She might be back on my Christmas card list.”

Rhys squinted as he withdrew his marshmallow to blow on the brown crust it had formed over the heat. “You write Christmas cards?” 

Jack laughed, “Fuck, no. Angel does, I don’t have time for that kind of shit.” In spite of it being still all too molten, Jack ate the toasted marshmallow off the stick with no trouble, though he did drink a gulp of beer after. 

Rhys tried to slide his off the stick, but he only succeeded in pulling off the brown outer layer and burnt his fingers in the process. “Ow ow ow!” he uttered quietly. Even if he wanted to drop it, it was too sticky and clung to his fingers. 

“We’ll send your greetings,” Athena affirmed, leaning against her partner.  

Angel smiled at both of them, “There’s something else I want to give you… that I think you need right now, Dad.” 

Jack relinquished his stick to the side of the fire pit and eyed her with curiosity. “Yeah, what do I need, Honey?” He sounded dubious that there was anything she could give him that he could not acquire on his own. 

The hot marshmallow distracted Rhys from paying the greatest of attention. He jammed the charred gelatin into his mouth and chewed it. It was worth the burnt fingers and having to suck off the sweetness that clung to them.

Whatever she offered him aggravated Jack. His voice was demanding, “Are you smoking now? Is that what this is about?” Though it was perfectly hypocritical he said, “Because that shit’s no good for you, Angel.” 

Angel remained serene, like she had no fear of him, “Dad. Smell it. I’d never smoke tobacco. It’s _ gross _ .” 

“What the hell, Kiddo? Seriously… Where did you get this? Why would you think I would want this?” He did, however, hold the joint under his nose and inhale its piney scent. 

Rhys grabbed his beer to cool the burns on his forefinger and thumb. His partner sounded belligerent and his concern over the situation began to grow.

“Why do you always act like I’m stupid?” Angel bitterly asked a question instead of responding to the one asked her. 

Rhys looked at Janey and Athena, who looked at each other. They did not seem to feel comfortable interrupting, either. 

“I tell you all the time, you’ve got a brain the size of a galaxy, Angel. I have never  _ once _ told you that you were stupid. Where the hell is  _ this  _ coming from?” Jack still seemed roused with anger, though he was equal parts puzzled at his daughter. 

“Words and actions are two  _ very  _ different things, Dad.” She snapped back. “You think I don’t know that you like cannabis? You and Nisha used to smoke it at night when you thought I was sleeping. Don’t even try to pretend you don’t because I know it wasn’t Nina or Timothy.”

Jack started to say something, but stopped himself. He extended free hand at Angel and pointed at her. “Okay, so… we did. We did a lot… especially at the end. She was in _ pain _ .” Jack’s voice grew tremulous. His serious expression looked like a mask might crack with the application of any more pressure. “She could barely eat.” 

“I know,” Angel said solemnly, “That’s why I  _ got _ this for you. I know  _ you’re _ in pain, right  _ now _ . You know, I don’t even enjoy smoking things, Dad, but if I want to I am  _ going _ to. You don’t get to be angry with me, when you’re the one made us find you in a shit town covered in your own vomit. Just shut up and take this gift, shut up, and don’t be a dick about it!”

“Come on, now…” Rhys said, ditching his stick to put a hand on Jack’s shoulder. 

Jack pocketed the joint and took a swig from his beer, calming at Rhys’ touch. To Angel, he said. “I’m sorry, Pumpkin. You are… absolutely right. I’m sorry. Thanks… you’re a good kid.” 

Rhys squeezed his shoulder, “She’s an adult woman.” 

Jack outright laughed, “Shut up, Rhys. She’ll always be my baby girl. I love you, Angel.” 

Jack and Angel being quarrelsome was not an unusual occurrence, but Janey still smiled when it seemed that it was coming to an happy end. “Awww.” 

“I love you, too, Dad. I just want you to feel better,” Angel offered him a hug and he took it easily. 

They spent an idle hour drinking, toasting marshmallows, and chatting about their plans for the winter. It was going on nine thirty when all agreed it was time to turn in. Janey and Athena waved to the others and headed in side. Angel followed suit after hugging both men.

“Come on, gorgeous. Let’s go to bed.” Jack placed a hand on the small of his back to guide him forward. 

“Aw, Bed, really?” He raised a brow in mock consternation. 

Jack’s grin was lascivious as he winked, “I never said we were going to sleep.” The lighter and joint were taken from his pocket and the latter was put in the corner of his mouth. With a flick of his wrist he had opened the zippo and fired it up. As he lit it, he gave several little puffs to make sure it was lit well before inhaling deeply and blowing out a cloud of smoke. 

The distinctive smell washed over Rhys and filled him with longing. “Good. Because I have plans for you. I hope you plan to share.”

Jack passed it over to him, “Just a couple hits. We have to wake up early and get driving.” 

Rhys said, “Sure… it’s been a long time since I’ve had one.” He inhaled the smoke deeply and exhaled it over his head. “If we do stay up too late, Angel could always drive the Studebaker. We could be passengers.” 

Jack took the joint back and said, “Maybe. We’ll see.”

Rhys paused and gave Jack’s shoulder a pat, “I’ll meet you back at your place. I need to stop at my dressing room and freshen up. Grab some clothing for tomorrow to save on time. 

“Don’t keep me waiting pumpkin.” Jack looked him up and down before walking on.

The single hit of marijuana Rhys took proved surprisingly strong. It took him a little longer than normal to go through his evening routines as he found himself distracted by anything and everything. 

By the time he returned to Jack he was washed up and had dabbed his pulse points with his favorite cologne. He only had time to throw his bag down on the bench before Jack came through the curtain from the back.

It looked like he had washed up as well. His hair was brushed, though never fully tamed. That was an impossibility. The Ringmaster was naked; grinning exceptionally wide. “Tell me you don’t have anything on under that robe, kitten.” 

Rhys reached over to make sure the door was locked before throwing opening his robe to reveal that he was wearing nothing beneath it. He shrugged the robe off his shoulders and tossed it onto the bench. “Ta da.” 

Jack grabbed him by his tattooed bicep and pulled him close, gathering him up into his arms, though instead of kissing him he broke into giggles. 

It was all so silly it made Rhys laugh in response. 

In turn, Jack tried to clear his throat and affect more manly laughter, but all he could do was clutch Rhys close and snicker into his hair. 

“Wow… you are… all goofed up aren’t you?” Rhys kissed his cheek, fondly. 

Jack finally seemed to get himself together, though his grin was like the Cheshire cat’s. “You took forever.” He pressed his lips to Rhys’, both his hands finding handfuls of Rhys’ ass to squeeze. “I’m glad you’re finally here. My hands were getting cold.” He squeezed harder, “my dick is cold too.” 

Rhys pressed his lips up against Jack’s with pent up desire, wrapping one hand around the back of his head and holding him close. 

Jack giggles trailed off as Rhys kissed.. With one of his meaty hands he smacked Rhys on his bottom hard enough to get an exclamation out of him. 

“Ow!” Rhys said as he pulled back from Jack. In retaliation he gave him a stinging pinch to his left nipple. 

Since Jack could only laugh in response, Rhys used his shoulder to turn him around and lead him towards the bed. They passed through the red curtain. 

“Lay down, Jack before your hurt yourself.” Rhys pushed him towards the bed.

Jack dropped onto one knee on the bed and flopped onto his back on the yellow duvet. His arms folded behind his head to watch the other man with amusement. “What are you going to do to me, Rhysie? You gonna ride me, cowboy?”

Rhys turned away to gather both the lubricant and a large washcloth.. They were flung on the bed. He gave Jack his best Hollywood smile and drawled, “I reckon so, Pardner. You’re an old stallion but you still have a lot of fire in you.”

All of Jack’s composure disappeared and he laughed so hard he had to unfold his arms and slap the mattress.

Rhys climbed into the bed making straight for him. He leaned most of his weight on Jack’s chest.

“You’re too much… god…. Damn.” His smile was broad, his eyes crinkled at the corner with mirth. 

“If you think I’m too much  _ now _ ... just wait a minute.” Rhys said with the confidence of the mildly inebriated.  With his left hand he grasped Jack by his cock and squeezed it. “I’m pretty sure you said something about your dick needing warming.” 

“Oh Hell yeah, kitten. Saddle up!” He pressed his hips up to create more friction. 

Reaching across the prone man, Rhys snatched the petroleum jelly and uncapped it, though he had to let go of Jack to do it. 

“Booooo.” Jack declared the moment Rhys stopped touching him.

“Oh hush,” Rhys snickered as he removed the lid and scooped a small amount onto his hand. He warmed it up in his palm by squishing it between his fingers before grabbing Jack by his erection once more.

“Now, we’re getting somewhere. You’re too good to me? What did I do to deserve you?” He squirmed as Rhys hands slid up and down his length.

“Hah!” Rhys laughed, “Nothing  _ good. _ You took advantage of a poor, wandering soul for your filthy, base instincts.” He climbed over Jack slowly, moving one leg across him to straddle his waist.

Jack grinned with his eyes closed, lazy and content, “Worked out pretty good for me, eh? Come on, you wanted me. I can always tell when people want me. You were trying to wrap me around your little finger… I’m just better at those games.” 

“I don’t consider myself to have lost… I think we can call it a win win.” He raised himself up and turned facing away from Jack. “Watch this.” He crouched down again.

Jack slid his hand around the base of his cock to hold it up and waiting. 

Rhys was so adept at manipulating his body. He easily impaled himself on Jack’s cock, moaning lewdly as he sank down.  He had missed this.

The older man’s hands moved to Rhys’ hips to hold him steady once his pert ass had engulfed his dick with delicious warmth and friction.

“Oh that’s a good boy… fuhhhhhhhh, Rhysie… I am so into you. You are  _ literally _ amazing.” His fingers gouged into Rhys’ hips. 

Rhys pushed his legs up and eased down again with a throaty groan. “You’re not so bad yourself, Handsome.” With Jack fully inside him he braced his legs and said, “Keep that hold on my hips tight.” 

“Sure thing.” Jack said, keeping his large hands on Rhys’ waist.

Rhys raised his hands up and moved them behind himself as he started to bend backwards. With his feet still crouched on the ground holding up his lower weight, he folded back and rested his weight on his arms held out behind himself. He rested his head on Jack’s chest and winked at him when their eyes met upside-down. 

Jack’s gave a hearty boom of genuine laughter and said, “You want me to fuck you like this or are you just sayin’ hello?” 

It warmed Rhys in his heart of hearts to see this man so amused and enchanted with the novelties his body allowed for. With a laugh, he shifted to be more comfortable, though it meant he had to look at the ceiling instead of his partner. He laid his head back against Jack’s shoulder, but kept himself held up with the ringmaster’s help. “Like this.”

Jack started to work his hips, drawing back before slowly spearing his young lover again. Each of the first few thrusts  was agonizing in its slowness. With a soft grunts of exertion he picked up his pace.

“Come on, Don’t hold back.” Rhys groaned as Jack filled his carefully posed body. 

The pace of Jack’s hips quickened as did the forcefulness of his exertion. 

Rhys’ limbs began to fail him, trembling with the effort to stay as he was. He tried to fight it out of a sudden, strong desire to not disappoint him.

“Baby.” Jack’s lips were close to his ear, “Face me.” He slid his slickened cock from his lover and eased him down so that he was lying flat on him. 

“You want to be on top?” Rhys asked, grinning impishly as he rolled over off of Jack and onto the bed, coming to stop on his back. 

Jack pushed up off of the bed and quickly pounced on him, pushing his legs apart so he could climb in between them. “I don’t care so long as i get to kiss that mouth.”  He leaned over Rhys to claim those lips forcefully with his own. 

Rhys grabbed his own legs under the knees and pulled them back flush with the bed to give the Jack complete access to him. The kissing was wonderful, but he wanted - no,  _ needed _ \- the man inside him again. 

Breaking the kiss, Jack stared down into Rhys’ eyes, “You want my cock in you, again Princess.” 

“ _ Please _ ,” Rhys wasn’t ashamed of how much he whined.

The Ringmaster’s lips twisted  into a wild grin as he sat back a moment, guiding himself up close to Rhys’ entrance. He pushed his way back inside his lover. Only when he buried himself entirely did he lean forward and lock lips with his beau again. 

Frantically, Rhys wrapped his arms around Jack in and clawed his back. Again he said, “ _ Please _ .”

Jack wielded his dick like a jackhammer, beginning an assault of pounding thrusts that made Rhys moan into his mouth. He held himself up with one of his hands while the other brushed across Rhys’ throat before toying with his nipple. Only when he was done torturing the pink nub, did he finally reach down between the two of them and grab hold of Rhys’ neglected erection.

A loud hum of pleasure came from Rhys as he was taken in hand. He wrapped his legs around Jack and groped the muscles at his back with both hands. Alternately he stroked and clawed at his skin.

Jack stopped kissing him, instead resting his head down forehead to forehead so they could look at each others damp, red faces. His hips slowed, but never came to a complete stop.  After a few deep breaths he rasped, “How you doing, Pumpkin?” 

“OH… oh god… Jack… Don’t stop… I’m so close…  _ Please _ …” Rhys breathed up at him, dazed with pleasure and not far from release.

Jack gave him a peck on the lips. “Sure thing, baby. Fasten your safety belt,” He joked before he bucked his hips back up against Rhys, sounding the slap of flesh on flesh. 

Rhys cried out each time Jack thrust into him. His eyes took in his older lover; from his strong chest muscles, hairy and heaving, to the lines in his severe, weathered face. Every one of his senses felt electric and each one of them was keyed into how marvelous a man Jack Tassiter was. When at last came it was with a high, soft whine of utter ecstasy.  

The way Jack looked at him, like he were the most crucial thing in the world, brought tears welling into Rhys’ eyes. They spilled over and ran down the sides of his face as he stared up at him. 

“You are…  _ so _ … friggin’  _ perfect _ .” Jack whispered as he squeezed Rhys’ wet, spent cock. He looked like he was also drowning in his emotions, even as he continued plundering that sweet hole. His jaw tightened and his eyes closed when he came, the other man’s name on his lips. “ _ Rhys _ .”

Rhys could feel the warmth inside him. He smiled with lazy contentment up at Jack as he relaxed against the bed. It occurred to him how exhausted he now felt as he slid a hand over Jack’s bare shoulder and then let it fall to the bed. 

With no mind to the mess, Jack slipped himself free of the contortionist and laid down on his side to face him. 

Unable to ignore the mess, Rhys snatched up the washcloth and wiped Jack’s hand off before dabbing what he could off of himself. 

Jack reached up and pulled  the spare blanket from the top of the bed over them both. Rhys was given a kiss on the shoulder before he lay his head on his pillow to sleep. 

Nestled against him in the warm afterglow, Rhys followed him in sleep shortly after.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who waited so patiently for this. <3


	21. Safety Net

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rhys' new props arrive and his tension rises with them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Blows some cobwebs off of the Circus. Welcome back.

The silks did not show up as planned.

This was all due to a series of “Monumental fuck ups,” as Jack had called them. They had not been in the right place at the right time and it took Jack several trips to town to finally get it arranged so that they would pick them up in the town of Three Horns.

Rhys didn’t regret it; the silks had never been easy on him. Part of him had begun to hope Jack would just forget about the whole thing, but he wasn’t that lucky.

It was three weeks later before the silks finally caught up with the circus. Jack returned with them in tow after a day spent in town and the workers were busy unloading and dividing the goods purchased from the trip.

The moment Rhys laid eyes on the packages he felt sick to his stomach. “Wow so… That’s them, then.” He said aloud as he and Angel approached.

“Yes, Indeed,” Jack beamed. “I’ll have them put up now so if you’re of a mind to give it a shot tonight -  you can.”

“I can’t wait,” Angel added, nudging Rhys with her shoulder.

Rhys’ eyes opened wide as the cold hand of anxiety choked him up, “Ah… yeah. Later. Heh, sure thing!” He looked away from Jack so he could grimace, only to be forced to turn that into a broad grin as Vaughn appeared at his elbow.

“What’s that? Is that them? Wow. That’s really something, Rhys.” Vaughn was talking with fast exuberance as he pushed his way into the inner circle, “I didn’t think you were serious! This is great!”

Yvette was with him. She eyed the bundles of cloth as the roustabouts came to move them into the big top. “I can’t wait to see this act. Vaughn says it’s amazing.” Her brow set in a shrewd expression as if she were sizing up Rhys anew.

“Yay.” Rhys said with the most pathetic attempt at forced enthusiasm. “Let’s not all get too excited.” His throat felt tight, like it was soon to close entirely.

August’s stepped away from the truck, his white tank top was already soaked in red drippings that seeped from the poorly-wrapped meat and offal. It gave him the intimidating look of of someone that had recently won a fight. As he walked off towards the Tiger cages, August spared a scant moment of his attention to say, “Oooooh cloth. That’s real exciting.” He, at least, was all sarcasm. 

Jack’s voice cut through their commentary as he looked at those he deemed to be gawkers, “I don’t pay you people to stare at me, though I am really flattered. Come on, now. Unload the trucks and get out of my face,” he looked at Rhys, “Something wrong, cupcake?”

“No. I’m just excited.” He lied and moved forward to throw himself into Jack’s arms so that he could take a moment to gain his composure.

Jack’s eyes widened faintly as Rhys collided with him in a hug. He took it for a good sign and patted Rhys’ back.

Once the silks were carried into the big top Rhys could finally breathe normally.

The rest of the day he made himself keep busy doing jobs that kept him far away from the Big Top. Not wanting to talk further about the silks, he ate a quiet dinner with Jack in his trailer, though he was not particularly hungry and did not eat much. 

After dinner they spent some time playing a subdued game of cribbage. When he lost, Rhys immediately forced a huge yawn out. “It’s late.”

Jack pushed up his sleeve to look at his watch. “It’s 8:00. Since when are you the old man?”

Rhys laughed and got up. He pushed the cribbage board and card deck aside so he could sit on Jack’s desk. “I said I was tired not that I had to go to sleep.” He leaned down and snapped Jack’s suspenders. I’ll start fresh on the silks in the morning.”

Jack shrugged, “Works for me.” He reached up and touched Rhys’ thigh with squeezing fingers. “Why don’t you come sit on Daddy’s lap a little while.”

Rhys grinned as Jack pushed the desk chair back from the desk to make room. He rose and transferred his ass from the surface of the desk and into the man’s broad lap and made himself comfortable, feeling the press of Jack’s erection beneath him. His long legs stretched up and rested on Jack’s desk; feet clad in his recently acquired snake skin shoes.

Jack wrapped his arms around him and held his chest against Rhys’ back. He chuckled out of the blue, “You’re like a cat.” He rubbed Rhys’ belly which only made the younger man squirm and grin.

“I’m way better than a cat. They’re smelly and awful.” Rhys opined.

“Eh, they aren’t so bad. I have a bunch of them on the ranch but you have to. They work. The horses like them and they keep the rodents away from the feed.

“Do they go into the house?” Rhys frowned at the very thought. He supposed he could live with a cat, but he surely would never trust it.

“No way.” Jack said flatly. His big hand was tracing Rhys’ ass over his blue jeans. “The little assholes claw up my furniture. I mean a dog will too, but you can train a dog.”

“Dogs… do you have dogs?” Rhys tried not to be so obviously excited as he asked the question, but he failed at it. He shifted and turned so he could look at Jack’s face as they spoke.

“Not presently.”

Rhys frowned in disappointment, “But you have raised them in the past.”

Jack chuckled, “Yeah… I’ve had a few good ones in my time. Haven’t had one in a long, long time though. Nish was never crazy about them.”

“Would you ever get one again?” Rhys’ eyes were soft and hopeful.

Jack’s eyes narrowed slightly as he enquired, “You like dogs?”

“Yeah, I like dogs. Who doesn’t?” Rhys said.

The Ringmaster seemed to consider it. “My cousin keeps saying we should get a dog. He never had one growing up.”

“Me either.” Rhys shifted, his feet dropping off the desk as he leaned against Jack’s shoulder. “I always wanted one… but Mama could barely feed us sometimes so there was no money for a dog. Plus we were terrible children. We probably didn’t deserve one.”

Jack chuckled and added evasively, “One step at a time. We may possibly at some point in the eventual future... be able to look into getting a dog. They’re more work than you probably think.”

“That’s fine. I plan on doing a lot of work on your Ranch,” Rhys said seriously.

“Yeah? You gonna mend fences? Shovel horse shit?” Jack looked skeptical.

Rhys lifted his chin. “If you teach me how, I can do anything, “You won’t let us pay you rent, so you’ll at least let my brother and I do chores.”

“Knock yourself out.” Jack’s shoulders rose and fell, “Nina will work you to the bone if you let her.”

Rhys looked contemplative, “About Nina, Angel says she’s nice, but I’m a little afraid of meeting her. What if she hates me?”

“She doesn’t like anyone,” Jack reassured him, “She’s Russian.” He hitched Rhys closer in his arms. “As long as you don’t harm Angel, which obviously you won’t, she’ll like you fine.”

Rhys accepted it with a soft, “Alright.” He leaned in carefully rest his head against Jack’s.

“Though… in the interest of full disclosure,” Jack allowed time for a dramatic pause, “I should tell you that Nina is more than just my housekeeper.”

Rhys kept his face calm but inwardly prepared to hear that Jack had banged this dame six ways Sunday.

Jack continued, “She served her motherland in the Great War and...but not just as a nurse.” He made a finger gun and put it to Rhys’ head and clicked his tongue. “So I guess she’s like a Guard slash Nurse. The borscht is just the cherry on top.”

Head tilting to one side, Rhys said, “Oh-kay… Do you expect to typically need protection?”

Jack gave Rhys a blank faced look, “I’m rich, Rhys. Do you know who hates rich people? Any one that’s not rich, that’s who! Also, most other rich people.”

Rhys snorted, “So… everyone?”

Jack nodded, “Exactly. I need to know there’s someone there on my property that can handle violent and unforeseen circumstances.”

“What about your cousin?” Rhys frowned.

Jack was searching for a way to be tactical. “Timmy is big like me but… I don’t think he can fight. His dad’s a limp wristed intellectual type.” He flapped his hand at Rhys for emphasis. He’s great at keeping ledgers and doing exactly what I tell him to, but what I’m talking about is if the shit ever really hits the fan. I need someone who is battle tested. If anything goes down Nina will keep him and my place, safe.”

Rhys says, “Well now I’m especially terrified of meeting her.”

“Oh shhhh. You’ll be fine as long as you don’t talk too much.” Jack winked at him.

Rhys stabbed his finger against Jack’s pectoral. “Of the two of us I am infinitely more personable.”

“Ahhhh ahhh.” Jack squirmed and grabbed Rhys’ wrist before clicking his tongue, “Keep telling yourself that, Princess.” He leaned in closer clearly zeroing in for a kiss.

Rhys abruptly got up off his lap and said, “Actually, I’m tired now… I think I’m going to turn in.”

Jack shifted in his chair now that Rhys’ warmth and weight were missing. “Mmmkay. Sleep well, Pumpkin. I’m just going to do a little paper work before I join you.”

“‘Night.” Rhys at least made himself give Jack a full kiss on the mouth before retreating to his bed. Guilt pricked his nerves as he stretched out with a sigh. Though he wanted to talk to Jack he could not make himself. When his lover put out the light and came to bed Rhys pretended to be sleeping, though he would not for some time.

  
____________________

 

The next morning Rhys took his time getting ready. He knew jack was eager to show him the silks, but he lollygagged delayed until Jack had finally taken him by the arm and lead him off to the Big Top.

It wasn’t that Rhys was not excited about returning to the heights. Presently, his act was safe but it could not compete to the feeling of hanging in the air, wrapped in only cloth to keep him from plummeting.

Once it had been a source of joy for a young Rhys O’Byrne.

Sex was a fun and profitable enterprise. Alcohol was nice and reefer even better, but none of those lifted Rhys’ heart like spinning and posing high above the audience with no safety net to catch his fall.

It was during the summer of his 17th year that Rhys had the extreme good fortune to work alongside the French acrobat Henry Lemaire and learn his style of contortion in the air. He used long bolts of cloth from which he did a number of maneuvers for the delight of the audience.

Lemaire was old at the time- in the twilight of his career but was still a big draw for the circus they worked for in those days.

Even with his greying hair and the lines firmly set around his eyes and mouth, the dapper performer set the young contortionist’s young heart fluttering. Diminutive in stature, but devilishly handsome, he seemed to Rhys like a debonair depiction of Satan with his pointed goatee and moustache. The accent of his homeland was like a warm and happy song that filled the starry-eyed teenager with a dreamy awe.

Rhys did his best to attract the man’s attention but all his clumsy attempts at seduction failed. In time, he reasoned that that the man was either not interested in boys or a eunuch and had decided that was his loss either way.

Nonetheless, Lemaire did take a different sort of liking to Rhys and after a month on the road together he started showing the younger man the tricks and tips of his trade. It took strength and it was dangerous, but Rhys wanted nothing more than to be capable of such a performance.

It was months of grueling practice all generously offered in the older man's free time. A natural fear of heights and a tendency towards motion sickness plagued him in the very beginning and never quite left him through the years he did the act. These were the sort of problems he tamed rather than eliminated from his life.

By the time Lemaire returned home in the fall of that year, Rhys had taken away the fundamentals of climbing and wrapping the fabric around his body to keep suspended high above. Over that long stretch of off-season he spent all his free time in the school’s musty gymnasium practicing and devising his own new performance.

The act ended up taking him from a small performer to well paid act when he got hired on with Henderson’s ill fated outfit. Of course, the money always poured out of his hands as fast as it poured into it but he lived a better life than he had ever known previously.

The fun only ended after Rockford.

Henderson, the bastard, had not only stopped his pay for the months that he could not work, but had ever after paid him less. The bossman deemed that the silk contortion was a far bigger draw than its stage bound cousin and he simply couldn’t afford to pay him what he had been earning previously.

He was damaged goods, marked down for quick sale.

That year O’Byrne’s had wintered in Kansas City on the invitation of a retired husband and wife trapeze duo. They had a nice farmhouse and a barn where Rhys set up the silks, intent on getting back to work.

Every day that fall and into the winter he went out into the barn at dawn and stared up at the still silks. He would grasp the fabric with his fingers and immediately feel awash in terror; his breath heaving and mouth dry with blood pounding in the veins of his neck. He would give up.

Eventually he lost the capacity to even try. It was a crushing defeat.

The earthbound contortionist mourned the loss of his act as though it was another part of him that had been amputated. There was weeping and he broke some things he ought not have broken before he accepted that his career as it had been was over. After that he pushed down hard and crammed those feelings deep down into the tiniest space in his heart. He tried to forget them so he could get back to work as best he could manage.

The block that prevented him from performing in the air was entirely mental, but that did not make it feel any less real.

He was brought back to the present by Jack’s velvet voice, “Ready, Rhysie?”

Rhys only nodded in response.

Jack looked terribly handsome that morning. His long face was split with one of his wide, manic smiles as he held the flap open like a gentleman, his other hand he held Rhys’ own.

The first thing Rhys noticed made his heart sink. His beautiful blue silks were hung from high supports. They trailed down towards the floor, where they were met at a significant height by one of the safety nets. The fabric stopped there, pooling against the netting.

With a deep breath he forced himself to remain calm. “Ah… ha… Jack, they’re beautiful… but can you have them take that net down? I don’t need it.” He hoped this was his lover’s idea of a joke.

Jack released Rhys’ arm gently. His eyebrows always gave him a severe sort of look but it deepened at Rhys’ less than pleased reaction. “Come on, It’s for safety. You said yourself you haven’t done this in a long time.” His voice was slow and measured, still he spoke with certainty of his viewpoint.

It grated at Rhys’ nerves no less though, he knew it was ungrateful- bordering on childish to be rude when Jack had given him such a special gift. His voice was flat, “I’m not going to climb around in a net to get to the silks. I need to reach them from the ground, so _please_ … have the roustabouts remove the net.”

Jack shook his head. He seemed to be making an effort to be calm, “Nah, _see_ , I can’t do that. I can see there’s still a little bit of confusion on your part about the way this is going to work. So let me lay it out for you.” He spread his arm out expansively

Rhys frustration crept into anger at Jack’s easy condescension. He folded his arms, lips pursed and eyes glaring.

“If anything were to happen to you I’d feel _terrible_.” Jack said as he took a few steps before turning around, “So we’re gonna- you know, ease you back into this whole thing. Nice and safe. While we are lovers - I am _also_ your boss. So I’m going to need you to cut the crap and listen to me on this one, Pumpkin.”

“Hold on a minute.” Rhys straightened up and squared his shoulders, “I told you can’t just make decisions _for_ me. If I’m going to do this I’m going to do it my way. You don’t harang anyone else about safety.” After a moment’s thought he amended, “Other than Angel.”

“Well I don’t love anyone else here like I love you and my baby girl.” Jack was animated now, throwing up his arms in frustration.

Rhys lifted his hand and held it over his face for a moment. “I love you too, but I said ‘no’. Have them take the net down.”

“You’re being unreasonable,” Jack cautioned, his hands going to his hips.

“No, you’re being unreasonable!” Rhys hissed “You are fundamentally failing to understand the act if you think that I can put up with this nonsense. I don’t need a safety net.”

Jack’s face softened. His blue and green eyes - always so expressive, now looked at Rhys with pity. That was almost worse than his words, “Oh kiddo, you sound like you needed a safety net your whole damn life.”

A white hot surge of anger swiftly boiled over in Rhys’ blood and he spat, “And maybe you’d have a better relationship with your daughter and employees if you weren’t such a controlling ass!”

Jack stared at Rhys with his lips pressed together. He seemed to be thinking carefully before making a response. He was mad, furious even, but unlike Rhys he seemed to be actively trying to contain his reaction. “Did she tell you that?” He sounded calm, but Rhys knew he was not.

“She never had to. You think that because you’re the big Ringmaster with the fist full of cash that you can dictate everything to everyone. Well you can’t. You wanna insist on the net? Well I insist that you just wasted your goddamn money.” Rhys sneered.

“Fine,” Jack was curt, “wouldn’t be the first dumb thing I wasted money on.” He turned away from Rhys and kicked at some straw on the ground.

Given he had been one of Jack’s frivolous purchases in the past, Rhys took that as a low blow. With an abrupt turn he started to walk out of the tent.

“Wait, _Rhys_ ,” Jack called after him.

In response Rhys just walked faster. This was a disaster and he wanted to be far away from Jack lest he feel inclined to punch him.

Only Jack’s words followed him, “Rhys, _baby_ , please don’t walk out on me.” 

The wounded sound in his voice was what stopped Rhys, but it didn’t make him turn around.

Jack remained where he was, hunched over, stuffing his big hands finding the pockets of his pants. “I just want you to be safe. Maybe… I’m _possibly_ … being too controlling, but tell me you at least understand why.”

Rhys sighed and turned back around to face him, not bothering to wipe the tears that trailed across his cheeks, “You can’t use being my boss- or Angel’s, as an excuse to … force us to do what you want.”

Jack exhaled, “I know that, I guess… but everything goes so much smoother when everyone obeys me.”

Stepping up close to him again Rhys put an arm around Jack, “People don’t _work_ that way, just because you think they should. We have that pesky little thing called free will.”

“Well it sucks,” Jack noted. His arms wrapped around Rhys and pulled him close. “Fine… I get your point. I gotta let you do your thing.” He made a face that bordered on petulant before he sighed. It was foreign to everything in him to concede defeat. “Just don’t crack your head open, okay, Pumpkin?” With his thumb, he wiped the tears from Rhys’ eyes.

“I won’t.” With a frown he said, “I kind of let things get ahead of us. This could have waited.” He looked up at the cloth as he stepped back from Jack. “This is off season work. We’re way too far into season. I need to just stick out my current act and focus on that and see if… this is even going to be a thing I can do later.”

Jack smiled at him gently, “Don’t pressure yourself and blame it on me. I don’t care if you wipe your ass with them. I bought them for you. What you do with them is your concern… up to and including your decisions on safety… I _guess_.” He still sounded annoyed at having to give up an aspect of control. 

Rhys smiled now, “Thank you, Jack.” He grabbed the other man by his suspenders and pulled him close to kiss him again.

Jack’s strong arms closed around, his hands finding Rhys’ ass and giving it a cupping squeeze.

They spent several idle moments enjoying the mutual exploration of their lips before Fiona announced herself with a loud clearing of her throat.

Rhys pulled away from Jack and turned to Fiona. He gave her a small finger wave before looking off in a random direction so he did not have to make eye contact.

“And what do you want?” Jack asked with open annoyance.

“Sorry to bother you, Bossman.” She probably wasn’t, “Vallory told me she needs you as soon as you have a moment. I’m going to remind _you_ , like I reminded _her_ , that I am not your errand girl.”

“You’re whatever I pay you to be, Princess.” Jack gave her a dark look.

“That’s horse shit and we both know it, your Handsomeness.” Fiona was cheerfully insubordinate.

Turning his attention back to Rhys, Jack said, “I’ll have the net pulled and you can do whatever you want. I gotta see what the old cow’s mooing about now.”

Rhys frequently found himself impressed by how little Fiona cared about Jack’s good will. She had good reason. Everyone loved the trapeze and Fiona and Sasha were fearless, good looking dames, “Thanks again, Jack… I’ll see you later.”

“See you a little later.” Jack seemed hesitant to leave.

Rhys grinned, “Good luck.”

“Yeah yeah. Goodbye, Divas.” Jack grumbled and turned to go.

Fiona whispered as Jack disappeared from view, “I’m totally telling her he said that.”

Rhys snickered.

Fiona swiveled towards the silks, “So these are the famous silks. Aren’t they supposed to reach the ground?”

“Yeah.” Rhys smirked, “We had a little... disagreement on safety. Jack decided to over the top… but I convinced him to take the nets down.”

“By Crying?”

Rhys’ eyes narrowed, “Shut up.”

“He must really like you. Jack’s protective of all his performers… but only like an investment, like dollar signs with limbs,” she seemed amused. “Only Angel gets this kind of nonsense.”

Rhys smiled wearily as he looked at the net, “I think I spoiled his big reveal by fighting with him but this is the the dumbest thing I’ve ever seen. He’s just so bossy.”

“Imagine that, the Bossman, being bossy.” Fiona always looked at him like she thought he was stupid. If she did, she must have enjoyed his stupidity because they more and more frequently found themselves lazing in Fiona’s trailer gossiping about the other performers.

Rhys put his hands on his hips, “I think he’s forgotten literally everything about what it was like to be anything other than the boss.”

Fiona rolled her eyes and sighed, “Him and every other man with a handful of power in the history of creation.”

Some roustabouts appeared, grumbling about having to take down the net they only just put up.

Fiona hooked her arm around his and started to drag him out of the tent, “Come on, it's going to take them a while… I have a Snickers bar and Jay’s potato chips.”

“You know how to speak my language.” He said and they headed to her trailer. Once there, Rhys settled down at her small table. “I have a confession to make.”

“Do I want to know this or are you going to tell me anyway?” She opened up one of the wooden cupboards above and got out the tin of potato chips and opened them.

Rhys carried on, “This was a bad idea. The act change. I’m terrified. I haven’t done it in years. I’m hideously old. Now everyone has their hopes up that it's going to be amazing and I’m terrified of even trying and failing… or really of trying at all. I feel like I’m just going to disappoint everyone.”

“You were hired for what you do now. If you add something else to you act, than you push for extra pay,” Fiona said, “That’s what I’d do.” She set the chips down in front of him. She snagged a candy bar from a drawer and set it aside while she washed her hands.

“But there’s all this _pressure_ now.” Rhys’ nose wrinkled. “I feel trapped.” Rhys grabbed a chip and jammed it entirely into his mouth.

“You know I’m shocked at how shocked you are that two impulsive people, when together, might make impulsive and regrettable decisions.”

“I know,” Rhys agreed, “It’s awful.”

Fiona unwrapped the Snickers bar and broke it in two and held both halves up. “I break, you choose.”

Rhys reached out to take the half on the left. “What am I going to do?”

Straight faced, Fiona looked down at him, “Your _only_ option is to move to Europe and join an Italian circus as a _very_ sad clown.” She took a bite of the candy bar.

“Your advice is the pits.” He followed suit and glumly ate the candy.

“Jack won’t be mad at you if you can’t do it. Honestly, what’s the worst that can happen?” Fiona licked some caramel from her finger and settled down across from Rhys.

Rhys chewed the candy thoughtfully. “Nothing, I guess. Folks here will just think I’m lame.”

“We already think you’re lame.” She reached out and took a chip and crunched it loudly.

“But you like me anyway.” Rhys shrugged.

Fiona grinned mischievously, “Sure. Come on, If people are disappointed then they’re disappointed.” She shrugged, unconcerned, “That’s their problem really, not yours.”

Rhys smiled warmly, “You’re pretty swell, Fiona. Thanks for the advice.”

“Do you want to come up on the trapeze? Swing a little. Maybe we could get you back into the spirit.” Fiona suggested. “With the safety net, of course.”

“You couldn’t pay me to... I mean. No, thank you.”

“Are you afraid of heights?” A wicked smile formed on her lips as she found new information to needle him with.

“No,” Rhys lied, unconvincingly and stuffed his mouth with chips so he did not have to talk.

Fiona’s lips pulled up into a bigger smile. “You’re afraid of heights! That’s hilarious.”

Rhys narrowed his eyes, “Okay, yes. I am… Happy?”

Fiona laughed, “You’re too much.” 

Rhys swallowed and said, “Yeah yeah. Ha-Ha. I always have been, but keeping grip on something and spinning was easy compared to what you do. The height is scary but it never felt unsafe. It kind of gave me this terror rush that I used to love. Where as I was on a trapeze exactly once in my life and fell off into the net faster than you could say cannonball.”

“Okay so no trapeze. Can I help you in any other way? I’ll come with you even. You could just show me the basics of how to climb them.” Fiona suggested.

“What if I can’t… even do that?” Rhys asked.

“Why not? What would stop you?” Fiona’s bright eyes watched him closely.

Rhys eyes became distant as he tried to verbalize his feelings, “Well I told you… about the thing that happened to me when I stopped doing the act.”

She nodded, frowning. “Yeah.”

“After that it was like I was being held by a force I couldn’t see. Like an invisible wall made up of all my worst and darkest feelings… and this voice in my head that told me not to try because I’m broken now and there’s no way of fixing that.”

Fiona rose, giving his shoulder a squeeze before she poured him a glass of water.  
“You’re not broken. Broken implies… you no longer work. Maybe you’ve had a little bit of the shine knocked off of you, but you’re still running strong. You and your brother, me and Sasha, we’re survivors. It’s going to be okay.”

Rhys accepted the glass, “Thanks.” He said, both for the water and the kindness.

“Any time… and if you ever decide you want me to come help you try to get back into this silk contortion just let me know. I’ll come climb em with you until you feel comfortable again. And if you decide you just want to pack them up, no one will care… and if they do, I’ll tell them to back off alright?”

“Thanks, Fi. I’ll let you know either way what I decide.” He smiled at her.

____________________

  
Rhys lay awake in bed that night well after Jack had fallen asleep.

The Ringmaster had turned in early, lulled to sleep by one of Rhys slow deep massages. He had been gentle and had not said a single thing about the silks or when Rhys might be of a mind to try them.

Though he wanted to follow his partner into unconsciousness his mind was kept awake by his racing mind. One side of his brain was making a prosecutorial case that he was simply lazy and weak and a better man could risen above it all rather than remain grounded.

Another portion was handling the defense, counter arguing that when he had given up trying to resume his old act  he was still healing physically and it had been wrong headed even attempt at that time.

As another hour wore on he decided he had had enough and gotten out of bed. He rose quietly to not wake Jack. He slid on some clothing and slippers before he walked lightly out of the trailer.

The light was on in the front room of Fiona and Sasha’s trailer, so he quietly approached and knocked softly. When the door opened he was face to face with August.

August was sweaty and only clad in a pair of blue jeans that clung tightly to his strong body. He said merely, “Go away.”

“Do you know where Fiona is?” Rhys pressed his luck and asked.

“No.” August replied brusquely and started to close the door.

Sasha appeared to nudge August out of the doorway, clad in a pale blue sheet. “Rhys, hey! She’s at Angel’s tonight.”

“Ok. Thanks! I’ll just… go then.” Rhys said.

Sasha leaned out the door as August retreated further into the interior, “Good luck. Fi told me about what you’re going through and I just want you to know I’m rooting for you, Rhys. You can do it.”

Rhys grinned, “Thanks Sash. Have fun.”

“I always do,” She said sing song as she stepped back and closed the door. 

He made his way through the tents and trailers until he found the one belonging to Angel.  Fiona answered his knock. “Rhys. Come on in.”

Both women were still wide awake and dressed. From the pattern of cards on the table he imagined they were playing Hearts.

“Ooh card night?” Rhys asked, though it was obvious.

Angel beamed up at him, “You’re also welcome to join. We can start over.”

Rhys said, feeling a lump rising in his throat, “Can I convince you gals to join me in the Big Top instead? I… need help.”

Angel nodded eagerly, “I'm glad you came. We’ve been discussing your performance problem.”

Fiona admitted, “I filled her in.” Rhys was not her exclusive gossip partner by far.

Rhys sighed and folded his arms as he leaned against the small counter top. “One, please don’t call it that and two… go easy on me if I can’t do it. I’m really screwed up about all of this.”

Angel shook her head. “We would never,” she glanced at Fiona, “I would never do that.”

“I’ll be nice,” Fiona looked at Angel, mildly miffed by the implication before turning her attention back on Rhys. “I’m trying to help you, dingbat. Of course I’m not going to mock you.”

“You mock me daily… and you just did.” Rhys pointed out.

Fiona shrugged, “Well… this is a special occasion. Starting now.”

Rhys grinned lopsidedly, “Thanks, Fi.”

“You’re welcome.” She grinned. “I figure the best thing to do is just… see if you can pretend you’re teaching us how to do it.”

Angel rose and slid on some slippers. “Yes. We are your students and you are merely showing us the basics.”

Rhys nodded and said, “Okay… yeah. I can work with that. Thank you both.” Unable to contain himself he grabbed them both and pulled them in for a hug.

Angel hugged him back, You’re welcome.”

Fiona was less interested in being touched but she gave his back a few stout pats. It was affection enough that she didn’t shove him off. “Come on.” She peeled herself away and opened the door. “Let’s get to work!”

They stepped out into the night.


End file.
